


How Fast The Night Changes (And That's Okay)

by EstherRomanov



Category: Bandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boy x boy, Healing, I hope that's okay, Jay is in here, M/M, Running Away, Summer Love, Summer break, crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6433273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherRomanov/pseuds/EstherRomanov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short. Simple. Sweet. All three describing that summer Louis Tomlinson had with Ryan Ross; the whole of that summer, the little events that it comprises, and even his relationship with the older man. No other set of words can describe it perfectly as those three, at least according to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proposals

  
_“I don't know where you're going_   
_But do you got room for one more troubled soul?_   
_I don't know where I'm going_   
_But I don't think I'm coming home and I said_   
_I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead_   
_This is the road to ruin_   
_And we're starting at the end.”_   


\--Fall Out Boy, _Alone Together_  


Whenever Louis gave in to tell me the tale of that one time he fell in love and was in love in a limited amount of time, he would grimaced first and smile sadly (not at me, more like at the memories). That happens usually during warm nights after he tucked me in bed, picked up the pillows that fell to floor by their tufts, ironed them with his hand and placed them carefully underneath my head for comfort, after all these ministrations then he would begin the tale by enumerating some adjectives. 

Short. Simple. Sweet. 

_Short._

_Simple._

_Sweet._

Short. Simple. Sweet. All three taken for granted by me before Louis told me this story. All three describing that summer Louis Tomlinson had with Ryan Ross; the whole of that summer, the little events that it comprises, and even his relationship with the older man. No other set of words can describe it perfectly as those three, at least according to him. 

But I was warned that Louis and Harry are the real lovers of this story. They are the ones who ended up together. After that short, simple and sweet summer, they got engaged and, with pride in his heart, he will say happy. Wow, I usually would say. Way to spoil everything, I might sarcastically add. But he stresses that that’s the point. What was between him and Ryan and is a thing never meant to last. Patrick knew it. Pete also knew. And Niall and Gerard and Frank, they all knew at first glance. Liam had doubts but he soon came to realize that what Ryan and Louis had was nothing compared to what Harry and Louis possess, won’t even come close to it. Even Brendon and Ryan’s past beats it by more than a strand. 

And what did Mikey say when he was coaxed to give a comment? That it was one of those things that you should be happy about even if it happened for only one time. _Like a minstrel,_ he would dramatically add out of nowhere, _or a comet, or a ghost._

What about Harry? I always ask. Did he also know? Maybe yes. Most probably no. However to reveal this may risk the appreciation of that summer. Yes, Ryan and Louis did not last. Yet even the utmost bittersweet of things deserves a gracious appreciation. But if that is not enough to convince you to read on, I will forgive you. 

2 

At this point, we could begin right away to the part where Ryan asked Louis to spend the summer with him because, for Louis, that was the real start of the adventure. But then again, it would be better to start with an introduction of the principal actors of the story, those who matter and who has a huge impact on our protagonist’s life as the formula in every good story in the world. 

For starters, Louis was a college student and was taking Chemical Engineering. There is this prestigious university so far away from home and all people Louis ever knew. It was fortunate then that he had a cousin currently studying there when he was admitted: Patrick Stump. Now Patrick and Louis never got to know each other when they were younger. Jay had said that was their chance. Patrick let Louis board with him in that small apartment building near the campus. Patrick had few friends of his own and even fewer of them that he shared that flat with. There were his best friend Pete Wentz, the brothers Gerard and Mikey Way, and the stupidly handsome Frank Iero. 

Louis have harbored a crush on Frank (man-crush, he tried convincing himself), when Frank introduced Louis to his stepbrother, Liam Payne, a law student living in a dormitory inside the campus. Liam had a roommate named Niall Horan. And it was through Niall that he met Harry Styles. 

Five to ten years from now, Louis would have trouble recollecting the first times he spent with the other boys, but with Harry, he remembers it very well. It would play in his mind like a vintage movie, gold-tinted as if it was late afternoon, though Louis could have sworn that the meeting took place just past noon. He had just come from his last class of that day (Wednesday, October 9, 2013). He entered the flat that was some ten minutes’ walk from the campus, and was greeted by the sight of Frank Iero playing Super Mario Bros with Liam Payne. Pepsi cans and packs of nachos were scattered all over the floor. Dear Lord, Louis had thought, Patrick would certainly throw a fit if he sees this mess. 

“Hey, Lou,” Frank greeted all too pleasantly. Raptured by his arrival or Liam’s companionship or just maybe the pixel images in the TV monitor, Louis didn’t know what. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your class?” Louis asked quite brashly. “You were reviewing for an exam last night, am I right?” 

Liam laughed a little while Frank snorted. “Don’t be a worrywart, babe. Class this morning has been cancelled and the exam’s tonight. Niall and some dude are in your room, rummaging through your books. They might find your naked pictures of me, so hurry up. Get out of here so I can concentrate on killing my stepbrother.” 

“You’re not supposed to kill me, Frankie,” Liam chided. 

Louis was blushing and he shouted, “I don’t have a naked picture of you, goddamit!” But Frank winked at him and Louis was running to the stairs and into his room. He opened the door suddenly, and hit a person behind it. 

“Ow, you hit my nose!” the person grumbled. 

Louis paid no attention. He looked at the direction of his study desk and bookshelf, and was aghast to see that indeed Niall was going through them. To feed your curiosity, yes, Louis possesses a picture of a naked Frank parading around their flat, but it is not as he prizes that one picture alone. There are many other photographs: Patrick reviewing for an exam, Gerard drawing some comic book characters, Pete in his morning jog, Mikey drinking his coffee… their housekeeper Elizabeth by the mailbox, their landlady on one of her monthly visits, Liam celebrating his nineteenth birthday in his dormitory… the sun, the moon, the stars, a meteor shower, the cityscape… all part of a collection, of a proof of a hidden talent or mere hobby that Louis was too embarrassed to show to anybody. And Frank… Frank may have sneaked here in his room once to “borrow” Louis’ Webster’s Dictionary (his flatmates always did), then came upon those pictures neatly stacked inside a folder and slipped in the shelf, strictly hidden like a pelf so no one would see. 

“The fuck, Ni! Who told you you can enter my room?!” he asked angrily of the Irish boy. Usually he was nice to Niall but this was his “pelf” they were talking about. 

Niall just gave him a blank stare. Then said, “The door’s unlocked.” 

The answer was irritatingly wrong and Louis could not talk nor think because of it. He went over to his bookshelf and felt for the folder of pictures slipped between Webster and a hardbound copy of Stephen King’s Desperation. It felt untouched. It felt safe. He sighed in relief. He glared at Niall who backed away a little. 

“What were you looking for?” 

“A dictionary on dinosaurs. Pete said you have one.” 

“I don’t have any dictionary on freaking dinos. Why would I have any?” 

“Come on, mate. Don’t be a selfish prick. I need it for a project. Pete swore you have one. Said you were using it diligently.” 

Oh, isn’t it that Niall should have realized a long time ago that Pete is a douche who preys on overtly simpletons like Niall himself? He could see where this was going. “I swear to God, Niall, if you are talking about a goddamn thesaurus—” 

Niall’s face lit up. “Yes! I believe that’s the name!” 

No. Louis could not take this level of stupidity. He did not know who to blame; Pete, Niall or he himself for leaving his room unlocked. He tried quelling his annoyance. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

Niall was not. 

“A thesaurus is not about dinosaurs, Ni! That’s like the oldest joke in the book! Why don’t you use the Internet?” 

“Our dorm’s Wi-Fi has been disconnected for a week now; after the management found out that some residents are streaming porn, those wretched, greedy capitalists. We’re still filing for a petition. Come join the fight, Lou. Everybody has a right for porn.” 

“No.” 

“Well, what a good friend you are…” he trailed off and noticed his friend (that ‘some dude’ Frank mentioned) sitting on the bed. “Oi. Harry. What are you doing?” 

“Making mare omh my mose. Mhat mo mou mhink?” 

Louis remembered about hitting someone when he opened the door. The poor curly-haired boy was nursing his nose and was resting on his bed while watching Louis and Niall talk. He was stifling a laugh all the while. Louis had a notion that the then stranger to him was part of the prank towards Niall. 

The boy was holding his nose, covering half of his face. Louis could only see green eyes. Then the boy dropped his hands from his face and suddenly Louis was a lyrical poet: _“I see the naked sun and the bathing angels that once roam the earth/ I see the shy moon behind the glittering stars/ I see the beauty that this world has been hiding from me all my life/ I see the most acceptable reason to be alive/ Tell me to die and I will for you, O you beautiful devil/ I see you.”_

The lad, whose name is Harry and whose nose was red, was laughing gaily at Louis’ smitten look. 

Louis wanted to add more to that little sonnet that formed in his head, wanted to add more deep and loving lyrics. But he was afraid that words can’t capture all of the beauty. Only a camera will. 

“That’s Harry,” Niall said, and Harry gave a small wave. “He’s a classmate in geology. I just brought him here to help me find your thesaurus. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Why would he? He could have kissed Niall right there and then for being a sweet angel. 

“Mikey borrowed the thesaurus last night,” Louis announced, eyes not leaving the beautiful creature on the bed. “He left in his room though, I think. Go ahead, Ni.” 

Niall piped up. “Thanks, Lou.” And off he went. At that moment, Louis became concentered and did not think of Niall’s wrath that he along with Pete ad Harry would face once Niall found out the truth (then again, can’t he just watch Jurassic Park?). Louis slowly walked over to Harry, hesitantly so, then settled sitting beside the curly-haired boy. 

“My name’s Louis. Louis Tomlinson,” he said and offered to shake hands. 

Harry took it gratefully. “I’m Harry Styles. And I think you just broke my nose.” I could narrate the nest hours when Louis and Harry talked, describe it explicitly. But there were just too many things they talked about after Louis checked on Harry’s nose; from college courses to future plans, from favorite colors to most hated Steven Spielberg films, from hobbies to personal life goals. Their topics were vast and they did not notice the passing of time. They were just contented sitting in Louis’ room while Niall was in Mikey’s and Frank and Liam downstairs. 

Louis had imagined himself falling in love with a person under some difficult situations. A Romeo and Juliet, maybe. Or like a love-hate relationship. Or a prince and his knight. He had not imagined it would be this simple, this uncomplicated. He was not complaining, though. What is his right? This is love we are talking about. 

They were talking about elementary school crushes when Niall re-entered the room, crying and holding the thesaurus loosely in his hands. Louis felt really bad then. Then Niall burst out, “I don’t know how to spell Tyrannosaurus Rex and I can’t find it in this stupid book!” Louis felt worse. 

Harry gave Louis a sorry look before getting up and comforting Niall. The two left with Liam shortly after. Louis was left in a daze. He was almost convinced he just imagined the past hour of being in love. He felt empty and kind of lonely. He was lost. Then, Frank was standing by his door, smiling. He held up a card with someone’s number written on it. 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll give you Harry’s number.” 

Louis did more than that, he jumped to his feet, leaped on Frank’s arms, and kissed, kissed him repeatedly on both cheeks. Frank was laughing beneath the kisses and beneath Louis’ praises. 

“You’re a genius! A God’s gift! I love you!” 

The rest of the day Louis was rehearsing what to say to Harry when he calls him. He wanted to make an impression. He waited for the other boys in the flat (who all are like big brothers to him, him being the youngest) to give a suggestion. But with Patrick’s awkwardness, Gerard’s overt sassiness, Pete’s douchery, Mikey’s bluntness, and Frank’s, well, Frankness, they did not really help and Louis regretted wasting time. He forfeited and called Harry on the third day. He found out that the other boy was waiting for his call all of those three days. He could have regretted more, but what mattered mostly was Harry was interested in him, too. And then they were discussing on their first phone conversation when and where their first date should be. 

Louis fell deeper in love with Harry as time flew by, and Harry was the same. On their first Christmas together, they were boyfriends. By the second Christmas, Harry spent the holidays with Louis’ family in Doncaster. He’s the one for me, was and still is in Louis’ mind up to this date. Now, the problem arrived when Louis found out that Harry was afraid to introduce Louis to the Styles. He was afraid of the judgments and rejection that might come. Louis respected that. It was not Harry’s fault. It was the society’s who tried desperately hard to lecture us what is desirable or not, who taught us that no love can exist if it is not between a man and a woman, who gave us so many bullshits in life. Louis opted to wait for Harry and dreamed of the time they are out. Louis had almost laughed at the thought that their story has become a Romeo and Juliet in its own. He thought that was really romantic. Yet I mentioned earlier that the problem arrived because of this certain waiting and, to add, family pressure. Is it possible to grow exasperated of your lover because of waiting? That was what happened. You can blame Louis on that one for being impatient and ego-centric but you cannot blame him for being more and more insecure by the moment. You cannot blame Harry for being cautious and afraid of his family’s expectations but you can blame him for making matters worse by thinking it’s a grand idea to bring a fake girlfriend to a formal family gathering that February; an idea set into motion without Louis’ bare knowledge. 

However, Niall was his confidante, and Liam and Niall were roommates, Liam is Frank’s stepbrother, and Frank was Louis’ flatmate and kind of big brother, and it all added up that Louis found out. He found out on April, two months after the event. He confronted Harry. He was angry, so was his boy. There was a heated argument. They became distant to each other after that confrontation. Oh, they tried holding on, all right, to that love they have, no doubt about that. But they said that the greatest relationships are built on hardships and time. Harry and Louis broke up a week before semester break, two weeks before Louis met Ryan Ross. 

Let me explain how. 

I’ve told you about Louis’ big brothers in the apartment. But I have yet to tell you that they had plans of forming a rock band. That plan started way before Louis entered their lives, when Gerard was more than amazed by Patrick’s singing voice. He proposed to Patrick to marry their musical geniuses together. Gerard can be lead vocalist, he can take the rhythm guitarist and second voice, Mikey is bass, Frank is electric, Pete could be their lyricist as well as their vile— 

“Wow,” Patrick had interrupted to the over-enthusiastic Gerard Way, “I think that is too planned out.” But who would the drummer be? They know three: Spencer Smith, Andy Hurley, and Bob Bryar. All three drummers were willing to kill to get the role. 

“I. Want. EVERYONE!” Gerard had shouted, had ignored Patrick’s idea to have an audition. 

Because of indecisions and a potential killing spree courtesy of Bob Bryar, the rock band thing was put on hold for about two and a half years. Heaven’s mercy it was, then, when Bob graduated and Spencer became the drummer of another band. Time made the decision for them and they settled for Andy. While Louis was spending his time with Harry, his ‘big brothers’ were busy with band practices and gigs. It was too sad to think that they were only going to have that band for one and half-year tops before they graduate and find real jobs in the real world. But at that time, who cares? They were enjoying and having the time of their lives. When Louis was having that hurtful confrontation with Harry, the band (which Gerard adamantly named ‘The Chemical Fall Out’) was visited by Spencer during one of their practices in an abandoned storage area near the campus. Spencer informed them of a music gathering the night of the graduation’s scheduled date. 

It would take place in Memorial Hall. Spencer and his band would be there, and he wanted them to also participate for old friendship’s sake. Gerard and Pete took that however as a challenge. Pete had said, “We’ll be there. We’ll kick your sorry asses. Yours, and Brendon’s and Ryan’s and Dallon’s. Better prepare, asshole.” 

Graduation day, and after the Annual Meeting of the Harvard Alumni Association, Patrick noticed his young cousin moping in a corner of the Tercentenary Theatre. The whole commencement exercise just ended, and while Mr. and Mrs. Stump were chatting with other parents, he led Louis outside and they sat on the grassy fields. He was still in his rented toga but damn if that would stop him from comforting his British cousin. He heard about the breakup. All five of them had avoided Louis like a disease because, embarrassingly, nobody of them knew how to properly cheer a fellow man up after heartbreak. The booze they offered did not help, neither did a ticket to a Green Day concert nor an advance screening of some shit movie. Frank’s idea of making him read his too convoluted thesis about scabs and Communists is shit, too. And Patrick almost clouted Gerard when he suggested they ought to take him to a gay bar. In the end, Pete said Louis would heal on his own so they did nothing. It had been two weeks and Louis was not healing. He was always staring into empty space, holding his phone and waiting for a call or text from someone. It was awfully sad to look upon. 

“What’s the matter?” Patrick asked quite dumbly. 

Louis hanged his head down. He was silent for a moment. “I’m just sad. You’ll be gone now. You, Gerard and Frank. And I’m stuck with Pete and Mikey.” 

Louis could be lying but Patrick thought he would go with it. “It won’t be bad. You can visit me and Gerard in LA. And Frank got a job in Doncaster, right?” he added that to tease. Patrick had known only recently Louis’ little crush on the Iero boy before he fell madly in love with Harry. 

“And Pete… you know that asshole could have graduated with us if only he completed his requirements. So look after him, okay?” 

Louis snorted. “He only did that to have a little more time with Mikey.” 

Oh, dear. He’s bitter. “You can have Niall and Liam in the apartment. And if – when – Mikey and Pete graduate next year, you can have the apartment to yourself. You can invite any of your other friends to live with you there. You’ll be okay.” 

Louis did not answer. For Patrick, that’s all right. He has always been patient with children (though Louis is too far from a child), always prided himself of being good at taking care of them. 

“Are you going home now?” Patrick asked. 

“I have a flight later tonight,” Louis answered sourly. 

“Cancel it. The lads and I will be in a battle of the bands tonight. I want you to be there.” 

Louis did cancel his flight and did go with his big brothers to the Memorial Hall, but not without calling his mom first. His mother was agitated and a little bit irritated. Louis was supposed to come home a week ago when the semester break started. When he said that he wanted to watch Patrick’s graduation ceremony, she agreed to let him stay for another week in Massachusetts. But one more night is just absurd, according to her. At last she approved, as long as he would fly first thing the next day. 

Patrick made Louis sit by the back of the hall while The Chemical Fall Out prepare backstage. 

The hall was crowded, dimly-lit, and Louis felt more alone now more than ever. Liam and Niall were home. Harry had not spoken to nor called him. Why would he? They broke up. They broke up because Louis is not good enough, not worthy enough to be presented to Harry’s parents even if as only friends. He never would be good. His ego was too big that he did not see that in the beginning. He thought he was perfect, special, a keeper. But one move from Harry and he saw things clear. His was a body and spirit made of disappointments and he does not deserve Harry. 

Too caught up pitying himself, he did not notice when the first band came up onstage (5 Seconds of Summer, they were called), and the band that came after it (Twenty One Pilots), and the next, and the next. His mind was drifting. He did not want to be in that place. His attention only came back when he was becoming aware of Gerard Way speaking onstage. He then resolved to leave after his big brothers’ performance. 

“We are ‘The Chemical Fall Out!” Gerard boomed. It gave way for loud cheers from the crowd. 

From Louis’ seat, he could see Patrick stood awkwardly by his mike stand while Gerard paced back and forth the stage. They opened their performance with a cover of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”. And because all bands were to perform only two songs, the boys sang their most prized, “Welcome to the Black Parade.” Between the “Sing, motherfuckers!” courtesy of Gerard, Pete screaming his lungs out with him behind a keyboard, Mikey contenting himself with the bass behind them with Frank, Andy beating wildly on the drums, and Patrick singing like a god, one would think without doubt that had this band given more time and chance, they would become a legend. Louis could also not help the heat rise in his cheeks at the sight of Gerard grinding his body with Frank’s. Had Louis still has a crush on Frank; Gerard would surely be dead by now with his death glare. Or had Patrick been honest with his feelings for Gerard, Frank would black out on that very stage caused by a guitar knocked over his head. 

They ended with an ovation and a loud round of applause. And just as when Louis was ready to take flight like a windhover away from that darned place, his seatmate (who is a member of a band called 5SOS according to him) started to engage a conversation with him, making Louis a bit annoyed. But he replied to the boy – Ashton, he found out later on – nonetheless and agreed on his comments on The Chemical Fall Out. ( _He’s a nice kid,_ Louis would think, _too bad I wasn’t paying attention to their performance_.) 

Before he knew it, Pete, Patrick, Joe and Frank were approaching him. The Way Brothers were apparently accepting the booze ladies in the back offered. Louis congratulated the four. Then they sat quietly beside one another, the five of them, and watched the next band play. It was Spencer’s band, or rather, Brendon Urie’s band, Panic! At The Disco. 

They dressed odd, with coats and breeches and face paints with heavy eyeliners, as if in a marching band from a long lost dream. And maybe that was what they were aiming for: surrealism. They opened with a song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, then they had a song about getting high on drugs. Louis was more than sure that was what “Nine In The Afternoon” was all about. 

They were the last band to perform, and they took that opportunity to linger longer on the stage. 

The vocalist, Brendon Urie, spoke on the microphone to address the confused audience. He started with an apology, and said he must take that chance to ask a special woman an important question. Like minions to a theatrical direction, the crowd stepped back with adoring fascination to reveal a shocked and beautiful girl. They knew the girl, and they knew about the deal between her and the guy onstage. 

Brendon jumped to the ground, walked casually to the already crying woman, dropped to one knee and held up a ring. “Will you marry me?” 

The girl held only some three seconds of suspension before she answered. “Yes.” 

The place became deafening with cheers. When it abated a little, Pete – always the bratty dauphin – drawled, “Lame! Now they are going to win just because of that drama.” 

Louis’ traitorous mind played for him a stupid scenario: the formal Styles’ family gathering that February. Harry and his girl, whoever that bitch might be, cooed at by the people around them, adored and teased lightly, “You look good together!”, “You’re perfect!”, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” And, oh, Louis hated himself. 

Brendon’s bandmates left the stage that moment. Louis’ mind snapped off his thoughts when he noticed two of them walk to their direction and take the two vacant seats on Louis’ right. Brendon introduced them earlier as Dallon Weekes and Ryan Ross. Louis wanted out. Pete and Andy were tensing up, ready to have a word war with the enemy on Louis’ other side. 

“They planned this to appeal to the audience,” Andy said on pretense that he did not know Ryan and Dallon were there. 

“You wish,” Dallon muttered. 

Before them, Brendon and his fiancée were still being congratulated by the crowd. Louis chanced a look on the two ridiculously clad men beside him. Dallon’s face expressed boredom. Ryan’s was an expression Louis was sure he has seen before. Bitterness he has seen in the mirror way too many times. That look of resignation, sometimes puzzlement, more often frustration to one’s self, other times that look of stupid hope that one day one would do well and would prove people wrong. Louis had come to believe that he was seeing himself in Ryan. 

He did not know he was staring longer than necessary until Ryan glared at him from the corner of his eyes. Louis looked away, red in the face in embarrassment. 

Gerard came ambling shortly after, unaware of the wedding proposal prior to his absence. He was also terribly drunk. The man really cannot hold his liquor. He saw Patrick and he made as if to punch him. He grabbed the boy’s collar, ignoring Patrick’s little squeak of surprise, and forced his lips down to his. The littlest of the crowd around them whooped. Louis, on the other hand, was not really sure he wanted to see Gerard kiss the living daylights out of his cousin. Even Pete was speechless. 

Gerard stepped back a little. “You were on fire tonight,” he said to Patrick through panted breaths. “Gods, I want to fuck you right now.” Just like that he pulled Patrick, who had not recovered from the kiss, into the men’s room. The door slammed open and wimpled shut. 

It was well and good that only a few people noticed that scenario. 

“LAAAAME!” Pete shouted, so done of seeing two people together. 

Louis turned to Pete. “You do know you have to take those two home, right?” 

Andy answered for him. “Why would we? Can’t you see they’re releasing all the sexual tension they buried deep all these years?” 

“They’re doing it to get an audience appeal,” Dallon deadpanned. 

Louis frowned at Dallon. Then he caught Ryan staring at him. Ryan was looking at him with wonder, with amazement. Did he also see the mirrored bitterness and all the other things Louis lamented earlier? Did he also see himself in Louis? Did he? 

Ryan smiled at him. Then he and Dallon quietly left. 

Louis did not meet Ryan again until the next morning. After it was announced that the winner for that night was Twenty One Pilots, Andy and Frank forced the men’s room door open. They saw Patrick sitting against the bathroom wall; Gerard was sleeping on his lap. Patrick had been petting the sleeping boy’s dyed red hair to hush him deeper into sleep when Andy and Frank arrived. Their clothes were still on, nothing regrettable happened, thank God. Gerard’s fly was open though. 

Pete had a knight in shining armor moment of his own when he saved Mikey from the drunken ladies backstage, and they all went home. 

Louis left the flat at break of dawn, with his big brothers still sleeping. He already mentioned to them the day before of his flight in the early morning so he did not see the need to wake them up. Plus, he’s a little awkward in saying goodbyes. 

Mikey was said to stay for the summer classes. Pete would also stay because Mikey would. He got a summer job in a near gasoline station. Besides, Mikey and Pete would be there for another school year. On the other hand, he was more than sure he would never see the three others again (four, if you counted Andy in). Well maybe he could visit Patrick and Gerard in LA if he’s got the money. With Andy it is goodbye forever. As for Frank, he could fantasize himself quitting school and taking odd jobs in Doncaster, rent a flat next to wherever Frank Iero occupies and watch him every night. What a nice little fantasy. But maybe he could turn it into reality? Nah, he would face many rebuffs. Forget it. 

In the train station he saw Ryan Ross sitting on a bench with his own traveler’s backpack. Without makeup, Louis had to do a double take to make sure it was really him. Quietly he sat beside him but with some distance. The train was to arrive fifteen minutes later. 

He noticed Ryan staring at him (as if wanting to confirm the mirror he saw in Louis’ eyes the past night). Louis cleared his throat and held out a hand “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself last night. We met at the hall. I’m Louis Tomlinson.” 

Ryan took the hand and shook it briefly. “Ryan Ross.” 

Silence. Awkward long silence that would make Patrick Stump’s whole being to shame. 

“Where are you headed to?” Ryan asked finally. 

“Airport. I’m going home to England. You?” 

Ryan was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. Far away, maybe. I haven’t decided.” 

His answer did not make sense. But Louis caught on one phrase: far away. He repeated it out loud. “Far away. Why?” 

“Why not? We have three months, haven’t we?” 

“We do.” 

The train arrived. Doors slid open before them. Ryan stood up. He turned to Louis. “Come with me?” 

“To where?” 

“I have no idea.” 

You’ve heard of stories, about protagonists making huge mistakes in their lives: Gulliver, Robinson Crusoe… others… Maybe it was wrong to go with Ryan if Louis had thought of it wisely. But he did not. For him, thinking makes a mistake worse than it already was. And do you say he did not think of his parents and his earlier worries when he boarded that train with Ryan? I say to you that those were all he was thinking as he took little steps into that transit. Isn’t every one of us thinking of the consequences of a mistake while we’re doing it? He admits it was a mistake, he knew that all the greatest adventures in the world begin with one. He wanted where Ryan was headed to: far away. He would buckle under to that desire. He would not let the chance slip. He went with him to a destination they have yet any idea about. 

My friend, that ends our long prologue. The next parts, I will take liberty to explicitly detail how the three months went, hoping you don’t mind. At the end of the day, this is only a tale of two strangers that wanted escape and instead found healing. 

In three months. 

END OF CHAPTER ONE


	2. Preparations

_“ So here we go again_   
_Wishin’ we could start again_   
_Wendy run away with me_   
_I know I sound crazy_   
_Don’t you see what you do to me?_   
_I want to be your lost boy_   
_Your last chance, a better reality”_

\--All Time Low, _Somewhere In Neverland_

The ride was fast, most certainly because they did not go far after all. They took off in the next stop and before he knew it, Ryan has led him to some small coffee place in Back Bay, in some morning diner where the curtains and the tablecloths were dappled with brown and yellow colors, the waitress snobby, the eggs and sausages greasy and the tea so hot. So he ignored – for the moment – his crumbling stomach and did the right thing: make a video chat with his mom and tell her he cannot go home this summer. He surely did not want to do that but otherwise his face will be shown on BBC on their list of missing people. Maybe the call would even lessen her worries. 

“What do you mean you can’t come home? What’s happening to you, Lou? Has something bad happened? Tell me. I can help!” She was hysterical, in her beautiful Sunday dress that Louis bought for her three Christmases ago. Behind her Louis could spot green fields and a game of croquet tournament taking place. They must be in his childhood friend Lucas’ house. 

“I’m with a friend,” he said as if it would explain everything. He glanced over at Ryan who was drinking coffee opposite him in that diner. Ryan had a blank judging look on his face at the sight of Louis almost hunched over in his seat to cover the laptop. But Mrs. Tomlinson’s hysterics could still be heard. 

“Who? Harry?” His mother continued. 

“No. And mum,” Louis whispered sharply, “I told you we broke up.” It came out so naturally that he was almost amazed with himself. 

“Who then?” 

“His name is Ryan and…” Shit. What is there left to say? That’s all he knows about Ryan. What? Could he say ‘ _he’s a member of some emo college band and we decided to run away together just this morning_ ’? 

“And what? Who’s this Ryan?” 

“He’s a friend. Patrick and Pete know him.” He was not sure of that, but he decided buckling under the lie which he thought first was better than asking Ryan – while Jay was there – who he was in that university and who he was as a person. Besides, whenever Louis uses Patrick’s name as an excuse, it always works on Jay. In her eyes, Patrick is the politest bloke on earth who would forever be a good influence on Louis. 

But not that time. 

Jay’s lips only wore thin and her brows furrowed. Then, “Can I talk to this Ryan?” 

“No, mum. Don’t be daft!” Louis sputtered and Ryan almost smiled behind his cup. 

“Who do you think you are, calling your mother daft as a bush? Let me see him. Let me see the lad.” 

Louis gave a pleading look to Ryan first. The other boy shrugged his shoulders then said, “It’s fine.” So Louis overturned the laptop to Ryan and whispered low, “Don’t fuck this up.” 

“Good day, ma’am,” Ryan said politely. Louis just wished this would be over soon. 

“Hello,” Jay said. “Where are you taking my son?” 

Ryan chuckled and Louis glared at him. _Stop messing around, you prat._

Though his mum has a good point and that also made Louis pause for a moment. Where are they going, really? Why did he go with this stranger? What are this stranger’s plans? 

“Well, ma’am, I actually plan to travel around the state this summer. My idea must have appealed to Louis,” was what Ryan’s answer. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Ryan Ross.” 

“Where did you come from?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada.” 

“And how long have you known my Louis?” 

“Ummm… three… months at least?” Three hours in reality but Louis gave him two thumbs up for that save. Anything to free his mum from worries is fine with him. Ryan was working as a chevalier alongside him in that mission. 

“You study in Harvard as well?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my fourth year in medtech come next semester.” 

“You know Patrick?” 

“I do. We met in a summer camp years ago.” 

“Are you a good friend to Lou?” 

“I… think so?” 

“You’re not sure?” 

“I mean, Louis told me time and again that I’m his BFF,” Ryan lied so naturally that Louis snorted. 

“How long do you plan to keep Louis?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Louis laughed at that. He knew that that was not what it meant but old habits die hard. 

“Do you plan to stay with him all summer?” 

Ryan directed a stare at him. “Depends on what he wants.” 

“Oh but you’re such a good looking boy. You don’t look dodgy at all,” Jay exclaimed and Louis’ ears started to burn. Being Jay’s son, he knows where this conversation is headed to. “Do you promise to good take care of Louis?” 

Ryan was starting to get confused by then. “Yes?” 

“He’s been absolutely gutted since Harry broke up with him. I barely see him smile. So if this is what he wanted, spend the summer away to cope up and be with someone who will help him forget, then be it. I give you all the bless—” 

“That’s it! Stop!” Louis turned the screen to him again. “Mum, this is not what you think it is. Ryan and I, there’s nothing going between us!” _And for fuck’s sake, as if I could move on from Harry that easily._

Jay had a weird look on her face. And could he hear Lottie and the twins laughing off-camera? He could. He would gash them if he was there, certainly. Then Jay was smiling. “Anything to keep you happy, my dear.” 

“That’s what he also said back when he introduced Harry to us!” Lottie yelled. And honestly, that’s a little bit unfair. He knew everybody was cheering for him to move on but this time it only felt like they were goading him to. He also knew that his little family was dead-on gobsmacked when they learned what Harry did to that Styles’ family gathering (he didn’t tell them, it was Patrick who called Lottie and explained to her why her beloved Harry and her ‘annoying’ brother broke up), and it was not just him they were cheering to move on, but also themselves. They had liked Harry too much. For two years he was part of their family. It would take a whole lot of time for them to adjust to the idea that Harry somehow betrayed their trust. 

“Well, I won’t hold you much long now, love,” Jay said with a smile and a mist on her eyes. “Just… take care of yourself this summer. I haven’t seen you for a long time but if this is what you need then I’ll be fine. Your happiness matters. I have many more things I want to say but I don’t want to take your time. Go on your way. But promise to call me now and then, love. Then maybe, come Christmas, Ryan could come visit us.” 

Louis smiled at her. “Thanks, mum. I miss you.” After a few more goodbyes and reminders, Louis finally closed the laptop. 

Across from him, Ryan was observing with a blank expression. Another bout of awkward silence commenced. Then the older boy took a sip from his cup of coffee. “So…that went well?” he asked. 

“I think so,” Louis said with a shrug. 

Ryan has a thoughtful expression. “So about you and me… I think you ought to clear that up to your mom. I don’t want anyone to think I’m hitting on younger boys.” 

Louis’ embarrassment returned full force. “You’re just a year older than I am. And my mum is just worried about… some things. Never mind.” 

“Yeah, but. You also look like a seven so…” 

“You’re a five. And what about your ‘Louis called me his BFF’? Pardon, but you look like the stereotypical arsehole I would punch in an alleyway, not someone I would befriend. You pompous, lonesome nix.” 

“Then why did you decide to go with me?” was Ryan’s counter argument, in which Louis has no answer for. So he kept his mouth shut and just glared at the boy. 

With a heavy sigh, Ryan ignored his own question and continued his drink. 

“Hey,” Louis called on. “What are we going to do now? Where are we going?” 

Ryan spoke from behind his cup. “Where do _you_ want to go?” 

“I thought we’re going to drift from place to place?” 

The older boy finally dropped his cup to reveal an amused smile. “Yes. So where do you want to go?” 

Louis thought hard. _Where? I just thought we’d be going far, far away. Then where? Where do_ I _want to go?_

“I’m not sure,” he admitted finally. “South Park, maybe?” 

Ryan grimaced. “What?” 

“I like watching South Park. And I heard it’s a real place.” 

“Great, why don’t I take you to Springfield while we’re at it?” He paused, heaving a sigh, then asked, “Say, you’re from Britain, is that right? What place have you gone into my great America anyway aside from the nooks and crannies of Massachusetts?” 

Louis did not miss a beat. “Times Square, twice.” _With Harry on both times._

“Jesus, you’re terrible. Alright, I’ll take you to Disneyworld. Do you like that? And the Amityville house in Long Island. The Portland Head Light is nice, too. Heck, I’ll even take you to my pad in Las Vegas.” 

While Ryan droned on and on about these ‘great’ places his country has like a strange announcer on the telly giving you a tour, Louis thought of his ‘older’ brothers and what could they be doing at this time. Not a day has passed and he already misses them. That’s what they get for babying him. At this hour, Andy may have come home to his own flat. Frank may have been stark naked, drinking his morning coffee. Mikey and Pete would be tangled in bed together despite of the hot weather. And Gerard, who does not like it when Pete makes a move on his younger brother, he would have nothing to say as he would be busy, packing his things for… 

“Los Angeles,” he said suddenly and Ryan looked at him in question. “I want to go to LA. Patrick and Gerard will be there in a couple of weeks and I want to see them. They said they will tour me if I come visit them in the future. We’ll see the Hollywood. We’ll see ‘The Bohemian Girl.’” 

Ryan scratched the back of his head. “LA’s like the other end of the state. It would take two, three days to get there from here. And where will they be in LA?” 

“I’ve got an address.” Louis was still filled with mirth. “We have three months, eh. And I told you Gee and Trick would probably be there in a fortnight or so, there’s no hurry. We could make it our last destination perhaps.” 

“Okay. Our last destination then.” Ryan agreed. “Anywhere else?” 

“Wherever you want to take me to. Take care of me this time.” 

“As you wish.” 

2 

The first thing they needed to do, at least according to Ryan, is to leave most of their things and pack only what is necessary. He said they will be living the life of a runaway; they will be hitchhiking, hopping on trains, and walking mostly on the way. He said he has a friend who was living nearby that they could leave their things to. So, still in Back Bay, they went to a cozy apartment and talked to Jon Walker. 

“You’re still doing this thing, huh?” Jon had asked Ryan when told him of his plans. “And who is this guy you brought along?” 

Ryan took one look at Louis then proceeded to fix his things again. “Name’s Louis Tomlinson. He’s a cousin of Patrick Stump.” 

“Patrick Stump? That short guy from Pete’s band?” 

“Yep.” 

“Look. He’s short just like him. Must be running in the family.” 

Jon continued to scrutinize Louis after they shook hands. Louis pretended to focus on his work on checking on his things but he could feel the back of his head burning by Jon’s stare. The boy was making observations every now and then which were starting to get under Louis’ skin. 

“Ryan, he’s rugged, isn’t he? Should have comb his hair, it’s running in all directions.” “He’s tan, Patrick’s got pale skin.” “Doesn’t look much like Patrick but he looks like him, too. He also looks… what’s the term? I’ve read it somewhere. Derevaun Seraun! Innocent darling!” 

Louis felt like flinging his suitcase at him. Ryan did not seem happy as well with what Jon was saying. 

“Does Patrick know you took his cousin away from him?” Jon asked, finally a sensible question. 

This time it’s Ryan who stared at Louis. “I don’t think so. Louis?” 

“Oh. Don’t worry. I’ll call him when I got the chance. He would give me a bollocking for running away with you but he’ll be cool.” 

“He’s very British, isn’t he?” Jon muttered after hearing Louis speak. 

“Stop examining him like a creep, you dipshit. Go away and leave us to our work.” 

“I just want to see who you’re finally replacing Brendon with.” 

It was a slip of the tongue, Louis could see, judging by how Jon’s face morphed into fear and embarrassment. Ryan was glaring at his friend then, teeth bare, as if ready for a brawl. 

“I’ll go and make you two some packed lunch for your journey,” Jon said then quickly retreated out of the room. 

Ryan was still glaring at where Jon has gone, and then he noticed Louis was looking at him and he snapped. “What are you looking at?” 

Louis just rolled his eyes and continued his work, not wanting to be part of his drama. He was sure he’s going to learn more about it later in the journey anyway. 

3 

It didn’t take them long to finish their work, but it also didn’t take long for the overdue weariness to finally catch up, and soon the two were having their nap in John’s living room, in separate cretonne-covered sofas, while their host was watching Ellen on TV. 

When Louis woke up, he didn’t get up from the couch. Instead he lied still and kept his eyes closed. Jon and Ryan were having a discussion in the kitchen/dining room just across where he was. And though Louis did not want to eavesdrop, he felt like what the two were chatting about was important that Louis could not interrupt it by showing them that he’s awake. Besides, he’s still a little sleepy. 

Jon was asking Ryan why he was still staying in Panic (it’s their band, Louis remembered then). Ryan retorted that Brendon and Sarah’s engagement won’t affect his passion for music, why would it? 

“It’s not just about it,” Jon said patiently. “I listened to some of Panic’s new materials. I don’t hear you from any of those anymore. It feels like you’re not there. Do you still give a say to the band’s… everything? Could you even?” 

Ryan stayed quiet. 

“That was why I left them in the first place, Ry. Anyway, I met some new kids. They are talented. We’re going to form a new band. You should come with us. We need a vocalist. And with a good lyricist like you, Pete Wentz can run with his fucking money.” 

Ryan took some time to answer. “I founded Panic, Jon.” 

“You did,” Jon said with a tone that suggested the boy’s answer did not mean anything, nothing at all. 

There was no response from Ryan’s end again. 

“Think about it, Ryan. I want a response this summer. In the mean time,” Jon drawled. “Where did you meet this guy?” Louis knew he was pertaining to him. 

“This morning, at the train station.” 

Pause. There was a clacking sound. 

“Wait, just so we’re clear, _when_ did you get to know him?” 

“This morning, at the train station.” 

Jon cursed. “Are you serious? Why are you letting him go with you, then?” 

“Why not? He looks harmless enough.” 

“You know I’m not talking about that! Just why?” 

It was Ryan who cursed and mumbled that time before giving a coherent answer. “Because I want to. I want him to come with me.” 

Louis relaxed and let sleep take him away. 

4 

It was finally understood that they will start their journey the next day, as it was late in the afternoon when Louis woke up and, learning from Jon, Ryan wants to start a journey at break of dawn. 

“He’s a cheesy dipshit like that,” Jon quipped while Ryan scowled at them from the kitchen/dining room. 

Jon told him that that was the third summer Ryan would run away, and he was always the keeper of his things which he could do nothing about since Ryan always blackmails him with a ‘traumatic and R-17 event’ that happened on their freshmen year. 

He’s a likeable lad, Jon was. Louis was happy meeting him. 

Louis gave a call to Patrick, told him of his new summer plans, and asked him when he and Gerard would exactly be in LA. Patrick answered they planned to move next month and, yes, Louis’ visit would mean a lot to him, if only so he could report his state to Jay. The bollocking he expected did not happen, which he shouldn’t be surprised about since it _was_ Patrick. 

“And also,” Patrick said before Louis could hung up. “There’s a guy looking for you here a while ago. Zayn Malik, I think his name is. I told him you’re on your way to Doncaster because I thought you were.” 

Oh. Zayn. One of Harry’s many friends. 

“It’s probably nothing,” Louis feigned a jolly tone. “May have something to do with me prank calling him last night,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call him.” _As if._

Patrick laughed. Then he was thinking out loud at the other end. “Ryan Ross… isn’t that the one–? I think he is. Pete told me.” 

“What?” 

“They were in thing a while back.” 

“Who? What thing?” 

“Brendon Urie and Ryan. Pete told me they had a thing like how you were and Har… Harry… oh, no. _Shit_ —I mean, cinders. No, I mean sheep. Sheep was what I’m going to say.” 

Louis laughed, but it was fake, too. “That’s fine, mate. No worries. We’ll all get over it.” 

Minutes later, he was back in the living room, Ryan beside him, fully concentrated on a rerun of Power Rangers. Jon was out, running an errand for his ‘cheesy friend’. And all Louis could think about while studying Ryan was how Patrick likened his and Harry’s relationship to Ryan and Brendon’s. If that’s the case, would Harry find a girl, too (maybe the girl he brought to their family event)? Would he propose to her, too, in front of Louis? 

Was that the reason he looked so sad that night? The reason we looked alike? The mirror I saw? 

Ryan, eyes still trained on the telly, grumbled, “Why don’t you take a picture? It will last longer.” 

Louis calmly replied, “I would take that picture to a sorcerer and hope he would torture you to death.” 

Ryan turned to him. “What’s up, pretty boy?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really?” Ryan chewed the corners of his mouth while they study each other. “You ready for tomorrow?” With Louis’ shrug, he teased, “You better get a good night sleep tonight because we may never know how many times we would sleep in the next weeks with a roof over our heads.” 

“I can take that.” 

“Then you’re tougher than I thought.” He returned his attention to the television. Commercial break. “Fucking capitalists,” he muttered. 

“You told your mum and dad you’re going away this summer?” Louis asked awkwardly. 

“Mom knows where I’ll be and Dad’s dead,” Ryan answered dully. 

“I’m sorry.” Louis fidgeted in the seat. “So… where to tomorrow?” 

“Hmmm? New York City. Then Long Island if we still have time.” 

“New York…right away?” 

“Why? Afraid of the memories the city has of you and Henry?” he mocked. Louis groaned. He’s a proper arsehole, all right. “You don’t want to be sad? remembering how the two of you hold hands while walking down the busy streets, or while watching a pride parade or something?” 

“Piss off, Ross,” Louis snapped, wishing he could grab that blackthorn cane in the corner of the room and whack Ryan with it mercilessly. “First off, it’s Harry. Second, we never hold hands in public!” 

That caught all of Ryan’s attention and Louis was dead embarrassed by his confession. 

Ryan was laughing. “Seriously?” 

“Third, you’re a cunt for bringing that up,” Louis squeaked. 

“No, Louis. Seriously?” 

“Fuck off, that’s none of your concerns.” 

With a contented sigh, Ryan watched Power Rangers again. Louis hoped that that would be the end of it but when another commercial break came, Ryan turned to him and asked, “Seriously?” 

“Oh, you’re such an arsehole! No wonder Brendon left you for a girl!” 

Ryan laughed it off. “At least I got to hold hands with him and kiss him in a large crowd before he screwed it up.” 

It was Louis’ turn to ask, “Are you fucking serious? I thought you’d be highly offended by my statement, but you’re clearly mental!” 

“Well, it’s always good to find someone more miserable than you. So, you never held hands with Henry?” 

“Harry.” 

“With Harry?” 

“No… he was sorta still in the… you know… a dark place called closet. I mean he was out if he’s with friends but with his family he is… and his family and his family’s friends like to travel around the state a lot so he’s scared we might be seen… and they are, you know, a traditional, conservative family. They nix—you’re laughing so I hate you and I really do hope there’s a witch around here to hex you.” 

After Ryan’s bout of laughter, he repeated “‘Traditional, conservative family’ my ass. It’s 2015. And we are university students for Pete’s sake.” 

“And?” 

“So we’re the first-class radical hipsters and rebellious hippies out here. Tell your Harry to stop worrying and talk to his parents. It will do him a lot of good. They’ll get over it. Trust me.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Louis said. 

“It is if we make it to be.” He was getting uninterested in the conversation again, Louis could see. 

“Pray tell, how easy?” 

Without looking at him, Ryan reached out his arm towards him. “As easy as holding your hand in public.” 

“The fuck?” 

“Come on, Lou. Give me your hand.” 

“You’re entering dangerous territories here. We barely knew each for a day before you start calling me by my first name, now you’re calling me by my nickname. And you want me to hold your hand?!” 

“You’re getting hysterical, my love. Hold my hand. It’s easy.” 

When Louis did not make a move, Ryan just straight up grabbed his hand and held it. When Louis was still reluctant, Ryan interlaced their fingers together and clasped the hand tightly, instructing Louis to do the same. Finally Louis complied, and he was red as a tomato. He glued his eyes to the floor in embarrassment. 

“Now, isn’t that easy? I told you it was,” Ryan was saying, swinging their hands together back and forth a few times. 

The fingers are long, the palm hard, the clasp sturdy as if it would never let go any time, Louis noted. _Sort of like Harry’s._ But Ryan’s was rough and calloused, probably from playing the guitar. Harry plays the harmonium in their church, yet his hands are still soft, and smooth, and… 

“Hey, look at me,” Ryan said suddenly. Louis looked up even though his face was hot and all red. Ryan held up their joined hands and intertwined fingers for Louis to see. He smiled. “I’m holding hands with you. Isn’t that a sight? I bet Harry will die of jealousy if he sees this.” 

He didn’t know why but that made Louis huff a laugh, then chuckle. They both stare at their joined hands (amazed perhaps, but what about?) What a sight, indeed. 

After a while, they let go after Ryan said that that exercise is for when they are in public and Louis pointed out that they are not in public, they are inside John Walker’s little apartment where Power Rangers just ended and Dragon Ball Z would start soon. So they let go of each other in disgust and dismissed the hand holding event as nothing but pointless. 

Very soon Jon came home and found Ryan and Louis fighting over the remote. He laid out his purchase of one sleeping bag and some other provisions. Louis thanked him and apologized for the trouble. Ryan told Louis to forget being grateful. Jon won the lottery a month ago and he ought to pay Ryan what he owe him. Then the Brit asked what the sleeping bag was for. Ryan answered that it was for him. He remembered just this morning that he only has one sleeping bag and he certainly doesn’t want, when time comes, that they have to share one bed. 

“What if I wake up and you have a boner?” Ryan asked. “Now imagine if you wake up and you think I have a boner. I have a huge dick, Lou, for your information. I don’t want you to think I’d have boner for you.” 

They started a word fight. Needless to say, John found it all extremely amusing. 

5 

The next day, at exactly five in the morning, Ryan and Louis exited John’s apartment building. Like a hiker, Louis trudged along beside Ryan. The backpack was heavy, what with the sleeping bag, the packed lunch Jon reheated before they left, his laptop, camera, and clothes in it. But Louis thought he could get used to this. Suddenly, the street they were walking to go to the train station became crowded as more and more people rose up from their sleeps to attend to their works. Louis and Ryan exchanged a look, and then Ryan cheekily held out his hand. A little annoyed, Louis reached for it and gripped it tightly, hoping it would break. But Ryan didn’t even flinch. He was enjoying it, kept grinning at Louis. And there were palpitations in Louis’ chest, he thought it would burst. They’ve just known each other for a day and he already hated this Ryan Ross…but also liked him, and trusted him. 

Off to New York they went. 

END OF CHAPTER TWO


	3. Pressures

_“Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father_   
_Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers_   
_Leave all your love and your longing behind_   
_You can't carry it with you if you want to survive_   
_The dog days are over_   
_The dog days are done.”_

\--Florence + The Machine, _Dog Days Are Over_

This point of the story, Louis did not always include, and I didn’t know happened until on the day we were on James Scott’s funeral. He was in such a deep thought after he delivered a eulogy for the dead. Out of nowhere, on the drive home, he blurted out that once he was also convinced he did not love the man he would marry, just like James Scott who his friends and doctor knew only thought did not love his wife because of the voices in his head. Harry had laughed with good nature. He squeezed Louis’ shoulder and said, “Tell me about it.” But Louis kept quiet. In the evening, he confessed to me that there was this one part he did not always incorporate in his story because he was embarrassed of the strong emotions he held. And it was very early in the narrative too. He started by admitting that the temptation to stop the summer journey and leave Ryan behind was in that part. He didn’t know if leaving the man behind was a good choice; if it would have been better for him if they separated ways that time, if it would have saved them from the troubles that would follow. 

There they were, on their third night in New York City. They had planned to stop in New York City for only a day, but when the older boy found Louis’ camera, the bastard got so excited and dragged him to freaking Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, and even a blind tour in Upper East Side. Ryan got hold of Louis’ camera, dangling it from his neck all day long if it weren’t for the fact that he came to associate photography to Harry and he wanted to forget all that, Louis might have been annoyed. 

They were spending their nights on the cheapest inn they could afford in Midtown West (which was hard searching for considering it was New York) and watching shit television. And on their third night, even with Louis’ qualms, they went wandering around Times Square in the evening, holding hands (as what they were doing ever since they got there), looking for a cheap diner and a cheap department store where they could hopefully find a cheap souvenir. Even though Jay deposited a generous sum to Louis’ bank account the other day, Louis was still afraid to squander even a little bit. He liked sleeping in beds at night, understand, and he would budget his whole allowance for motels if that’s what it will come to. Ryan had laughed at him when he said that. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked but he nonetheless promised him that he would dig through his contacts for help when it would be necessary. 

Louis was still nervous about holding hands with a boy in public, afraid of judging, questioning looks. But surprisingly, no one batted an eye. They didn’t even notice them, not on Central Park, neither in Statue of Liberty nor, especially, there in Times Square. All the other were off to their own worlds, minding their own business, and finally realizing that was like being offered a sense of freedom. 

“Why is your hand so sweaty?” Ryan asked and halted their walk to wipe his palm with the leg of his jeans. 

“Sorry,” Louis muttered and wiped his hand too. 

They were walking in the sidewalks across the Broadway, for some reason, was still crowded even though the time was close to midnight. As a student, Louis never had a night life thus finding out that a lot of people have that and enjoying it very much was pretty odd and amazing in itself. Suddenly, he was commiserating himself for all the times he turned down any invitations for a social gathering just to review some lessons. What a loser he was. 

And those were all too much. The night life that he had escaped to become a good student, and the ease, the much too ease, of holding hands with another boy in different places, a fact that he had also escaped for Harry’s sake. Ryan and Louis had been arguing – teasing each other – earlier. But with those two discoveries, they invaded his thinking and they rendered him to answer only half-heartedly to Ryan’s insults. 

“You nervous or what?” Ryan half-shouted to compete with the loud environment. 

“I’m not,” Louis answered curtly then grabbed Ryan’s hand and tugged him along as he continued to walk. He wanted to feel that freedom again. 

At first, the older boy was surprised by his action. At least according to what he observed for the past two days, Louis never wanted to hold his hand. He asked suspiciously, “Where are we going?” 

“Finding a place to eat, remember? I’ve had enough of eating street food so we better find someplace good.” He was busy looking ahead. 

There was no answer at the other end. No words were exchanged until they were halted again by Ryan who stopped walking when they were in a not busy part of the street. He was complaining of tiredness. Could they just go back to the motel and return at the Square in the morrow when there are less people? 

“I could just order some Chinese,” proposed Ryan. 

“What an idiot. There are a lot of diners all around us and you want us to walk back, take a cab, then wait for Chinese delivery?” Louis seethed. 

Ryan thought of it. “Sounds sensible to me.” 

Louis thought of poking him on the side of his head. 

“I believed you were to take me around America and give me an all-around American experience? And you want to feed me Chinese food?” 

“That’s an American experience right there, Mr. Smarty-pants. Besides, I thought you’ve already been here _twice_? Why did I bring you in here in the first place? We could have gone straight to Amityville. I’ve always wanted to go there. See the spook.” Ryan was mumbling by the end of his sentence. 

Louis pursed his lips. “Pete and Patrick have visited that place before. They told me. There was nothing scary to it. Not scary at all.” 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Yep.” And that was true. On his first few months living with the boys, Pete was in his phase of exposing government conspiracies after watching a _lot_ of documentaries with themes such as aliens, cyber police, ghost encounters, fastfood chains, dolphins, and world wars, precisely anything with an hypothesis of ‘The government: (a) did it, (b) has something to do with it, and/or (c) is messing up with it right at this very moment as we speak.’ The delinquent student went on an investigative journey for two whole weeks, missing his classes and all, and dragged poor Patrick along with him. They may even have flown to Japan if Mikey and Gerard didn’t race their way to the airport in Washington after Patrick finally managed to phone them for help. The brothers stopped their departure in the nick of time. Frank and Louis were alone together in the apartment for a whole weekend because of that whole Washington drama. That was the first time he got a chance to take a picture of a naked Frank. Up to this day, Louis didn’t know if he should be thankful for Pete’s momentary madness. 

“I’m not surprise if Pete’s not scared,” Ryan said with a dreamy expression. “I know him to be a real man. If you must know, I knew Pete back in summer camp. He’s the realest man I know. I look up to him.” 

Louis nodded. “I agree, I guess. He’s a real man even though he’s a proper arsehole.” Then he cracked. “And gay.” 

Ryan frowned. “No, he’s not.” 

“He is.” 

“He’s not.” 

“He is.” 

“He’s not.” 

“He is.” 

“He’s not. How do you know?” 

“I live with him, birdbrain.” 

“He’s not. Don’t say that!” Ryan seemed agitated. 

Louis was annoyed. “Are you fucking doubting my credibility?” 

“Fuck, yes. Pete’s never going to be gay. He can’t be. There’s no way.” 

“That does it.” Louis dropped Ryan’s hand in spite and began fumbling for his phone in his coat. “I will call Pete right now and tell him you are doubting his sexuality. I will tell him you don’t believe he’s gay. He’ll be insulted, all right. That’s what he’ll be. Just because he’s not as sassy as Gerard does not mean you can peg him as straight. I will call him. Then maybe he’ll follow us here and show you who’s straight. Oh, you will have a very ugly demise, I promise you, you twat.” 

Ryan’s jaw dropped. “Do you know how unbelievably stupid you sound right now? You’re an idiot.” 

“Idiot my arse.” He found his cell but Ryan grabbed it from him. “Give it back!” 

Ryan held the mobile phone high. “Listen, goddamit! I just realized why people keep laughing their asses off every time I said Pete is my hero, okay? That’s why I panicked.” 

Louis finally calmed down. “You didn’t know? Can’t you tell?” 

“He’s always with girls every time I meet him.” 

“He’s with Mikey Way.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I know that guy.” 

Silence. Louis was inching to hold Ryan’s hand again. 

“Pete’s your hero? How?” 

Ryan sighed. “Long story. Let’s just say I formed Panic at the Disco because of him. I’ll tell you some other time.” 

“Okay, then.” 

The older boy returned his cell. Louis accepted it quietly. Suddenly, he was feeling the tiredness. Arguing with someone the whole day really takes a toll in your health. 

“Your hair’s messy,” Ryan pointed out out of nowhere and proceeded to muss Louis’ hair with his hands. 

Louis tried to slap his hands away but to no avail. “Leave me be!” he tried to protest. “I just combed them before we left.” 

“Well let me fix it better.” Ryan messed it up more then. “There,” he said when finished. “Don’t listen to Jon. You look better when your hair’s unruly.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Thanks.” 

He looked up at Ryan (stupid height difference), and the damn bastard has that cheeky grin again on his face. 

“Why the bloody hell are you always so happy?” he asked grudgingly. 

Ryan flicked his nose then laughed at the way he scrunch his face. “Because you’re so easy to pick on,” he said as if it was the plain, sober truth in all of the universe. 

“Is this how you reveal you’re a first-class bully?” 

“Only for you, Lou.” 

“Whatever…” Ryan pretended to hold his breath. Louis rolled his eyes. “…Ry.” 

Ryan smiled. “That’s better.” And he petted his head which Louis didn’t mind. He quite liked it, to be honest. 

Louis was going to grab Ryan’s hand then, going to, because he really liked the freedom it somehow gave him. He liked the freedom and the carelessness and easy life Ryan was offering him. He was reaching for his hand; Ryan was going to, too, when Louis heard an all-too familiar voice. 

“DON’T FOLLOW ME! NOBODY FOLLOW ME!” 

Suddenly Louis was bewildered. That was Harry. He was here. When Ryan touched his hand, he pulled away and ignored the now-confused boy. He looked around the sidewalk. 

_That’s Harry. That’s Harry’s voice. I can’t be wrong. But what was he doing here? And who was he—_

There! He saw a familiar figure in the same sidewalk as him, a figure running away, getting lost in the crowd; a familiar figure with long, curly hair; a slim bloke in floral shirt and tight jeans and tapping shoes. All that Louis could catch a glimpse of was Harry’s back before he disappeared in the throngs of people. He was more than sure, a hundred percent sure, it was his ex-boyfriend. 

_I wish I’d seen his face._

“Louis?” 

He continued to ignore Ryan and thought instead if he should follow Harry or go back to the motel. 

_He sounded so upset. What was Harry so upset about?_

His eyes, still trained to where Harry has disappeared, spotted more familiar _faces_. And they were looking at (studying) him, too. Zayn Malik, Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, Gigi Hadid, Nick Grimshaw… Harry’s group of friends. 

Zayn, after visibly having an internal argument, stepped up towards Louis. The rest followed suit with alacrity. 

“Hi, Louis,” Taylor said with a giggle. Nick was pointedly staring at the camera hanging from Ryan’s neck. The Grimshaw boy had helped Harry find that camera strap as a birthday gift for Louis. Additionally, the lot of them knew that Louis does not want anyone holding his precious photo-capturing device. And now he’s letting this stranger… 

“I thought you’re back in England,” Zayn said to Louis. “That’s what your cousin said when I asked him.” 

Louis could not find his voice. 

“We thought you’re in England,” Zayn said. “ _Harry_ thought you are. Didn’t know you’re here in New York.” 

“W-what happened t-to Harry?” Louis stuttered. 

Zayn glanced to where Harry ran away to. “To him? He’s upset… sad. We were watching the two of you. _He_ saw you hold hands with him… flirt with him.” Louis’ heart dropped. Ryan remained expressionless. “He didn’t know you finally moved on.” 

“The day I was in your apartment, asking for you from your cousin, well… Harry learned that time that you’re still in Massachusetts. He is already here in New York during that time. And, he decided after much deliberation, that he wants to spend summer with you,” Zayn explained. “He had sent me to hopefully give you this before you fly to England.” He pulled out a creased piece of paper from his billfold and turned it in to Louis’ shaky hands. It was a train ticket to New York. “He had wanted to make you change your mind and go here instead. He had wanted a new start for the two of you. He thought he was too late when you were gone and thought you’re already in England. Well, now he _is_ too late. Too late. You moved on.” 

Louis wanted to say that that was not what it looks like, that Ryan was just a friend, but Zayn’s accusing tone has gotten under his skin. “Well, what do you expect me to do? Wait for him in a corner to finally have the guts to introduce me to his family even as just a nonsense colleague?” 

Zayn sighed. “Relax, Lou. That’s what I told him, too. Actually, I told him that your pride would be too high to come back to him. That’s what would stop his summer plans. I never thought you would already have someone.” 

“Clear that up, Tomlinson,” Ryan finally said. He had that decisive, knowing look. 

Zayn was frowning. “What does he mean?” 

Louis gave a pleading look to Ryan. _Do I really have to?_

A nod in response. 

“He’s just a friend,” Louis said somberly. “But we’ve just met. There’s nothing between us. We barely know each other. I just met him at the train station in Massachusetts the other day.” 

All of Harry’s friends looked intrigued. “And you’re going with him?” Ed asked. 

Louis felt like crying. “He’s a friend of Pete’s. He said he will travel all around America this summer. And I want that, too. So I went with him.” 

That put a smile on Zayn’s face. “Harry is staying in the hotel just around this corner. It was the first hotel you’ll see in the right. Twelfth floor, eight room. Surprise him, Louis. He’s not the same ever since the two of you broke up.” 

They quietly left, sure of themselves that Louis would make a run to Harry’s hotel, throw his self at the boy, and make him _their_ Harry again. Truth was, Louis wanted that, too. The thought that Harry wanted to make it up to him, sad without him, jealous upon seeing him with someone else, wanted to spend the whole summer with him made him want to cry in joy. He could have been with Harry at that moment, if only he didn’t go with Ryan. 

And Ryan, he was walking away, too, leaving Louis behind, also sure that he would choose Harry over him. He was going back alone to their motel in Midtown, and then he would go to Amityville alone, to South Park alone, to Las Vegas and back to Massachusetts alone. And Louis would be with Harry. 

But Louis’ feet were suddenly glued to the ground. He couldn’t move. He was just staring stupidly at the train ticket in his hands. He didn’t know how much time passed, but he could hear announcer behind the PA system in a nearby department store said that the place would be close for the night; may every one find their way to the exits? Thank you and good night. 

Louis started to walk and his feet led him across the street, to a corner, to the front gate of the dreaded hotel. He looked up the building, tried to see where the twelfth floor was. 

_Harry would be inside his room,_ Louis thought. _And I would knock gently and he would open the door. Then he would ask why am I there, and I would have to explain everything. And I would tell him that I still love him. And I would say that I’ll be more than glad to spend summer with him. And could we start again? Then I would kiss him, and ask him if we could hold hands in public from now on, because it was so easy._

He turned on his heels. 

2 

A dozen loud knocks that disturbed his peaceful slumber. “What the fuck?” he said with a loud cry. 

“Open the door, you dense, pompous fuck. I’ve been knocking for half an hour! It’s brass monkeys out here.” 

“Louis?” 

“Who do you think? Lord Voldemort?” 

Ryan went for the door and let Louis in. Louis strode in and slumped face down on his designated bed in that motel. 

“It’s three in the morning,” Ryan said with a yawn after inspecting the wall clock. 

“Yeah, and you left me alone in Times Square, with little money mind you, to buy me food in 7-eleven and get me cab,” he mumbled through the pillows. 

Ryan sat at the edge of Louis’ bed. “I figured you’d be spending the night with Henry.” 

“Harry.” 

“Harry, sorry.” 

Louis was still not showing his face. “I stood him off.” 

“What? Why did you blow him off?” 

“I didn’t blow him off, I stood him off.” 

Ryan thought for a second, then shrugged. But he was still confused. “Why did you stand him off? I swear I thought you want to be with him. I even packed your things for you thinking you’d just come pick them up in the morning.” 

“I _do_ want to be with him. But me mum already entrusted my life to you. And I don’t want to give another detailed call. Besides, she’s still right mad at Harry. We’ll have a kerfuffle if I told her I want to give Haz another chance.” He sniffed. “Another besides, I want to get back at him for that time he brought a beard to their family gathering. Let him wait all night! If he grew tired, why doesn’t he call that bitch? Who gives a fucking hoity-toity fuck? Not me, no sir.” He sniffed again. 

Ryan hovered above him, looking down at him in concern. “Louis? Louis?” 

Sniffed. “What?” 

“Are you crying?” 

Louis lied still. 

“Louis?” 

All of a sudden, Louis got up – almost jumped – and threw himself to Ryan’s arms, knocking him flat to the bed, and there he cried his head off against Ryan’s chest. The older man, so surprised at first, took a while to react. Very carefully, he brushed Louis’ hair with one hand and patted his back with the other. “Ssshhh….shhh…” he said while Louis continued to sob. Every now and then the boy would scream and curse which would be luckily stifled by Ryan’s unlucky drenching shirt. But he didn’t mind. Ryan would hold the Brit tighter every time he heard him mutter _fuck him, fuck him, fuck him hard_. The pillow at their side would also be a constant victim of Louis’ blind punches. 

The older stayed quiet until Louis finally talked. 

“I was at the fucking hotel. I was at his fucking door. But I couldn’t knock. I want to see him. I want to make him happy because I know he’s sad. But I can’t… I don’t want to see him just yet. Because I’m not happy. I’m not ready. I’m not ready,” Louis said through tears, hiccupping every now and then. A paradox he has become then to Ryan’s eyes. 

Ryan went on with his soothing actions. He looked off to a distance and said in a soft voice, “You’re still a child.” 

That made Louis cry a little more. 

“I don’t want to be with him. He fucking hurt me. He said he was bored. Bored with me! That’s why we had to break up. Why… The pain won’t go. It won’t go away… he hurt me so.” 

“That’s all right… that’s all right.” 

“I won’t bow down to his desires. Fuck him. Fuck that.” 

Ryan closed his eyes, remembering something. Before his mind took him back to a certain birthday party where one person waited and waited for the longest time for someone so dearly beloved, he was drifted back to reality by Louis’ next words. 

“ _I hate him_ ,” Louis said, loud and clear and with finality. 

Ryan didn’t know how long they stayed like that. When Louis fell asleep, he went about to extract himself from Louis’ embrace. But the boy’s hold was tight. Realizing this and not wanting to wake the boy up, he too just went to sleep. 

3 

The sun was already high in the sky when Louis opened his eyes. He was alone in the room. Very wearily, he sat up in bed. There were a number of unread messages in his cell. 

_“You made your choice._ ” From Zayn. 

_“Don’t you dare come near Harry again. He waited for you!”_ From Gigi. 

There were also from Taylor, Ed, and – oh, great – from Niall who he last heard was vacationing in Colorado. Words spread quickly and that does not help his aching head. He threw his mobile phone across the room in anger. Fuck Harry and fuck them. He got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom. 

His eyes were all bloody swollen. He looked horrible according to the mirror. He cursed loudly at the empty motel room. 

Then he remembered what else happened the past night. He quickly fished the crumpled New York train ticket from his pocket and stared stupidly again at it. 

_Harry. Harry’s back. Ticket. Summer. Hotel. Twelfth floor._

He did not allow his mind to finish or even complete those thoughts. He did not want to think about those, especially at that moment when he knew in his heart that it was all over now. Their relationship met its end and him not returning to Harry was the closure. It’s for the best. The nights of showing him his photographs were over, of telling him about his sisters and the croquet tournaments, of hearing him tell the tale of every sacrilege he has done in his childhood, of feeling his hair tickle his nose as he tiptoes to embrace him. All done. All over. He hated him and that’s all that matters. 

He heard the door open and Ryan coming in, loudly announcing, “Heil, honey! I’m home—Where is he?” 

“Where have you been?” Louis asked groggily, walking into the room. 

Ryan showed a paper bag. “Took out breakfast from the diner across the street. Figured you’d be hungry. But, man, the food is overpriced.” He took one proper look at Louis then laughed. “You look horrible. You look like Smeagle.” 

“I’m still better looking than what you will ever be,” Louis deadpanned. 

“I highly doubt that.” 

For a while Louis was afraid Ryan would bring up the topic of the past night. It seemed that it was in the boy’s nature to snicker at someone’s misfortune. But the older boy was just preparing the table for them to eat, humming a Green Day tune. 

“Are you going to eat or what?” Ryan asked him when the table was set and Louis was still standing like an idiot there. 

Louis cleared his throat. “I just thought… maybe we could go to Amityville today. I want to see how scary it is as well.” 

“You don’t want to go back to Times Square? Why? I heard there’s another parade tonight. There will be real elephants. We could take pictures.” 

Louis shook his head. “I’m not interested anymore.” 

Ryan contemplated the request for a second, then asked again. “How about a souvenir?” 

Louis held up the ticket. “I’ve already got one.” 

END OF CHAPTER THREE


	4. Properties

_“And when the cash ran out,_   
_We camped out at bus stops_   
_Begged for change to get to the next spot_   
_Best of times caught in the undertow._   
_I fell in love, I can't go home again.”_

\--We The Kings, _Summer_

In the early morning at the bus station, where Ryan was sleeping so soundly in the bench when he has no right because it was his fault they were in that ludicrous situation, Louis thought grumpily, the Brit recounted the past night that leaded them to that utter misfortune. 

_They were finally in Ocean Avenue, in the front lawn of the famous Dutch colonial haunted house. It was now completely dark. But the spookiness both boys expected did not come into fruition. It was a busy street, and every now and then, people from the neighborhood would peek at them from their windows with deep frowns. They, the boys understood, were the ones who have had it with ‘tourists’. Sure, they felt they were unwanted, but not by evil spirits but the people around._

_“Should we bust inside?” Louis asked._

_Addressing his question, Ryan said, “You know I want to, but we can’t. Not with all these eyes looking at our every move.”_

_Louis took a deep breath then sighed. “Maybe we ought to leave now. Find a place to stay for the night. Or return here in the morning. Or start our way to Philadelphia.”_

_Ryan scratched his head irritably. “It’s all for nothing!”_

_“That’s life, mate.”_

_“Fine. Let me just take one good photo…” then he went on and snapped three times._

_Louis watched him scan the photographs he took then he turned to his heels.“Forget it, Ryan. Let’s go.” When Ryan was not following though, he turned back to him. Ryan was frozen in place, eyes wide in shock and horror as he stares miserably at what he’s got. “What is it?”_

_The older man was shaking. “Here,” he pointed._

_“I don’t see anything.”_

_Ryan scoffed and zoom the picture. When Louis saw it, his eyes widened in terror. On the third window on the second floor, there was a silhouette of a girl. The face was a blur, but it was there._

_And they were still standing in front of the house. Louis had never been much a surrealist but blimey if their current situation was not calling for it._

_“Do you want to look up and see if it’s there?” Ryan quivered._

_“You go first and tell me if it’s still there,” Louis whispered._

_“Okay. On the count of three. One… two… three…” They took off in a run, screaming like scared little kids along the way._

_They didn’t know how and when they’ve reached a park where there were still groups of people hanging around. But no more wondering, they were grateful just the same for being in the presence of mortal humans, not ghost photo-bombers._

_“We’re okay… we’re okay…”_

_Then Ryan whooped in joy. “Louis!”_

_Louis was still catching his breath. “What?” he wheezed out._

_“Do you realize what just happened? We’re going to get famous! We can sell this picture—”_

_“Yeah. What a bright idea. Nice one, really,” Louis said with a smile then he knocked Ryan’s shoulder. “Are you off your trolley? Real people died in there and you want to make money out of it?!”_

_“Just a thought, scumbag. And don’t you go be self-righteous on me. This is your camera, anyway. Have fun looking at it in the future. I hope you get haunted,” Ryan said bitterly._

_“I’ll delete it.”_

_“Now, are you the idiot? This is the only souvenir we have of Amityville!”_

_“Excuse me, gentlemen.”_

_Both Louis and Ryan turned around to a voice behind the trees. A man in a large coat and a beanie showed himself. He was smiling at them._

_“Couldn’t help but hear you arguing. You’ve been to the horror house?”_

_“Yes,” Ryan answered hesitantly. Louis stepped close to Ryan and watched the stranger warily._

_“You must be tourists, then?”_

_“No, sir. Just crossing countries,” Ryan answer. The stranger kept nodding his head. “Now, we don’t want to appear rude but we have to—”_

_The man’s face immediately became livid with malice. He quickly crossed to their space and pulled out a gun from the confinements of his big overcoat. “Now, now. So you must have moneys then? I want them. No one will get hurt if you give them to me.”_

_“Dude!” Ryan groaned._

_“Bloody hell!” Louis cursed. He took a step behind Ryan and gripped the boy’s shoulder tightly in fear._

_“Give them quietly,” the man hissed. He opened his overcoat and motioned to the large pocket there. Behind him, the crowd was having fun with their families. They were just a shouting distance. Louis could definitely—_

_“Don’t even think about it, pretty boy,” the man warned when he saw where Louis was looking. He buried the gun’s muzzle to Louis’ stomach. “I will make this quick. Surrender all your money.”_

_“Fine, man, just put that away from him,” Ryan said, already fumbling for his wallet in his pocket._

_“Yours too,” the man told Louis and the boy gave him his money. He felt like crying. Damn it. He didn’t even get to spend half of what his mum gave him. What a waste._

_“Your cell phones, too.”_

_“Come on, dude,” Ryan started to complain but the man shut him up by waving his gun in front of him. When the two boys deposited their precious greens and mobiles to the man’s pocket, the mugger stared considerably at what was around Ryan’s neck. “The camera,” he said._

_Now it was Louis who spoke. “Hold the fuck up. Isn’t that enough? Leave my camera alone.”_

_The bloody thief sneered at Louis. “Why is it with him, then? What? Are you gay fag lovers or something?”_

_“None of your bloody business, mate. We’ve given you everything. Now off! Leave us in peace.”_

_“The camera, then I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” the man pressed._

_“I’m sorry, Louis,” Ryan said and started to take off the strap. The man watched in anticipation. Then Ryan let the device drop again to his chest and knocked out the unprepared mugger with a hard fist. The man was immediately grounded. Ryan was not finished dealing with him. He repeatedly kicked the bloody mugger down. “Who the fuck you’re calling a fag, huh?! Fuck you! I fucked your mother last night, motherfucker!”_

_“Ryan!”_

_“Why don’t you find a job, huh, you expert?! I’ve been studying my ass off for four years, waiting to be employed in this bitch-ass world, and you’re just getting my money the easy way? Fuck you! Fuck off! Get in line, brother!”_

_“Ryan!” Louis cowered away from them, in fear that man on the ground decided to use his brain and use the gun he has with him._

_“Hey! What are you doing to that man?” Beams from a flashlight hit their faces, it hurt their eyes._

_“We’re dealing with a shameless thief,” Louis answered, squinting, disabling him to see who they were talking to because of the blinding light._

_“What?” The light was getting bigger, the newcomer was getting closer._

_The man in the ground scoured up and then fled the scene._

_“Fuck! Come back here!” Ryan turned to run after him but the newcomer shouted, “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”_

_“He’s got our money, smartass!” Then he also took off in the woods and Louis had no choice but to follow him._

_They chase the damn robber and they too were chase by the man with the flashlight (up to this date, Louis still hasn’t figure who it was, if it was a police officer or just a passerby). Then they lost the mugger and they lost their follower._

_“Fuck, fuck, triple fuck!” Ryan cursed._

_They searched for any trace of the robber but in vain. Defeated, they went to the bus station and, in Louis’ great shame that he could never forget all his life, opted to beg for change for a ticket to Philadelphia._

And that was what happened. Basically they were zero cash and zero way to contact anyone (yes, he still has his laptop but that was beside the point). Louis glowered again at the sleeping boy beside him. How could he sleep? And how could _he_ sleep? 

2 

Ryan woke up at the break of dawn. He stifled a yawn as he asked Louis why he didn’t take a rest. 

“I can’t,” Louis answered curtly. 

“Come on. I already said sorry, have I?” 

“Yes, I’ve been humoring another idea,” Louis said as he looked away. “This time I really couldn’t see how it was your fault.” 

“Then why were you blaming me last night?” 

“No reason. You know how humans are.” 

Ryan sat up properly and said nothing for a moment. “How are our tickets?” 

Louis shook the cup to let the coins inside clink. The older man groaned. 

“Are you really not angry?” 

Louis reassured him with a smile. “No. But… is this how we will get by for the next months?” 

Ryan considered it. “More or less. But this is where the fun begins.” There was a dreamy expression on his face. “The best part begins you have nothing to lose anymore and you just keep on going and you get by.” 

Louis didn’t want to burst his bubble but he had to ask. “How do we eat?” 

“By the kindness of strangers.” He turned serious. “But if you don’t want that, we can just always walk back to Cambridge and forget this all happened. It’s no big deal, really. I could try again next summer.” 

“What about me? We’re going to LA, remember?” 

“So you want us to continue? This is fine with you?” 

“Not perfectly. I’m just saying, you could’ve told me a thing like this could happen so I wouldn’t be in such deep shock.” 

“Very well, I’m sorry for that.” 

3 

By ten in the morning, the two boys were already aboard the bus and were nearing Philadelphia. It was thanks to a father and daughter who saw them in the bus station and took pity on them and offered to pay for their fare. 

Billy Ray laughed his somewhat hilarious and annoying laugh as he told the two boys his old hitchhiking days. Beside him, his daughter Miley kept eyeing Ryan like he’s a piece of cake she wouldn’t mind tasting. 

“Which reminds me,” Billy Ray said, uncaring that his voice was too loud for comfort. “I didn’t catch your names?” 

“My name’s George, sir,” Ryan said and craftily nudged Louis in the elbow to tell him to do the same. Billy Ray and Miley noticed it but didn’t ask what it was for. 

“I’m William,” Louis said with half a smile. 

Miley giggled. 

“Oh, George and Bill, eh?” 

Louis was confused. “I believe I said my name is William?” 

Ryan coughed. “Shut up, Bill.” 

“And you’re college students looking for an adventurous summer, huh?” 

Ryan shrugged. “Something like that.” 

Billy Ray took on a parental tone. “Then you should have known better than to go to sneaky parts of the woods. You know how dangerous these days could be. Anyone could be killed for just a few cents. You’re lucky you got out of that alive and unscathed. What were you doing in the woods anyhow? Are you, excuse me for the term, ummm… like… Not like anything’s bad about that but…” 

Louis was groaning internally. Why the fuck almost everyone they meet mistake them for lovers? It was getting so frustating. 

“Yes, he’s my fucking boyfriend! I hope you’re happy,” Louis cried and was stunned when he realized that Ryan had said the same (only adding _fuckers_ at the end of his sentence). The two boys looked at each other in confusion. 

“Yes, obviously, of course, nothing is wrong about that, of course,” Billy Ray was mumbling. “I mean… good choice. I’m happy for you. Hope you’re happy too.” 

Miley was unhappy but her change of mood was ignored by everyone in the seat. “Well, what a waste. My friend Demi is into British boys.” She winked at Louis. Ryan was glaring at her. 

Louis was a little unsure. “Well, I don’t feel like I’m wasting myself at all.” 

“Just saying,” Miley said. “What did you do in Long Island?” 

Ryan answered noncommittally. “Tried to see the Amityville house everyone was talking about.” 

The teenage girl was impressed. “What did you see? Spill! Spill!” 

Billy Ray became serious. “Now, now, Miley… and George and Bill. I want you three to understand that real people died in there. It was a real, horrifying incident. And I don’t want you to think that it’s some sort of tourist destination that you cross off your bucket list.” 

Louis gave a look to Ryan that said ‘I told you so.’ Ryan was curiously undeterred, however. 

“And Hollywood,” Billy Ray was still grumbling. “Making money off that sad and horrifying murder. They should be ashamed of themselves.” 

“They were reenacting what happened so the world will understand,” Miley reasoned for them. 

“Then why did they have to do it twice? And why is the second sucked big time?” 

“Amen to that,” Ryan said. Billy Ray glared at him but it had no effect on the boy who was busily thinking about his ghost picture. 

“Have you visited that place before, sir?” Louis asked. 

“No. Never plan to. And neither should you again, Bill. You and George should have better places to go than disrespect the dead. Maybe the mugging is a punishment from heaven.” 

Well that was a little harsh but fine. 

Miley scoffed. “Don’t listen to Dad. He’s just… old. He doesn’t understand the youth anymore. Anyway, we’re actually going to Demi’s birthday party today. It’s her sweet 16. Could they come with us, Dad?” 

“If they want to. Boys, have you had any meal ever since you got robbed last night?” 

They shook their heads at the same time. 

“Then it wouldn’t hurt if you go with us first, right?” 

“Wouldn’t it too much, sir?” Louis asked. The fact that these two helped them to get to Philadelphia, no questions asked, already made his heart swell in gratitude. Sure, his stomach was grumbling in hunger but he didn’t want to abuse their kindness. 

“Oh, Bill. I’ve told you I also got through with hitchhiking because of the kind strangers around me, right? I want to return the favor to the world. Besides, the Lovatos wouldn’t mind if we bring in more friends. I know they would like you.” 

4 

That birthday party was a party hosted by beautiful, generous gods. Not in the way that it was extravagant or whatever, it was actually quite simple. There was just a caterer in the backyard and the attendees were open only to family relatives and few of Demi’s school friends or some other sort and everyone was having a good time. Mr. and Mrs. Lovato welcomed Ryan and Louis like they were old friends. As Demi explained to them later when they got to chance to meet and greet the birthday girl: 

“Well, my parents run a charity foundation. And they like to take their generosity at home. They like to help. Even if my dad developed some kidney problems, he’s still thinking others’ well-being. My father told me that when he was in high school, he read Les Miserables – this chapter in Les Miserables – where Jean Valjean stole the priest’s not flashy candlesticks and how the priest was fine with it, he said that he was really inspired by that priest’s character.” 

“So he thinks we’re thieves?” Louis wanted to clarify. 

Demi laughed. “No. That’s not what I mean to say. No.” 

They were in the buffet table then and Louis was already nibbling the carrot stick he got and Ryan was filling his plate with fried chicken and mashed potatoes. 

Miley was clinging hard at her best friend. “Demi, guess what?” She whispered something in her ear which made her clap in delight. 

“Really? The two of you are..?” She let the question hang in the air. 

Louis bit into his carrot stick grudgingly. Why was that always happening? Let him count: his mum and sisters, Jon Walker, Harry Styles and his friends, the cursed thief… Oh no, he wouldn’t really mind since Ryan Ross was far from bad-looking. He was handsome. And he liked his carefree attitude, and the way he held his hand in public and he liked that he like him with a messy hair and that he’s proven more than a few times when they are together that he is right. And the mirror. The mirror. But… 

He also let himself drop that thought there. 

Demi giggled (what is with girls and giggling?) “Spill! ( _and spilling?_ ) How did the two of you meet? Was it love at first sight? Are you out?” 

Louis scrunched his nose. “Do we really have to answer all of that?” 

“Well since, I’m sure, you haven’t got any birthday present for me?” 

Louis and Ryan exchanged a look. Ryan turned to Demi. “Denny—” 

“Demi.” 

“Demi. How would you like to see a ghost picture?” 

“That’s your gift? Fine. I’ll take it. You’re very private about your lives, aren’t you?” 

“You have no idea.” 

The birthday girl noticed something else. “You sound alike. Your voices, they sound the same.” 

Louis hadn’t noticed that before and now that she mentioned it… 

“Yeah, like squeaking mice,” Miley added wittingly and they could live without that, really. 

The afternoon dragged on. Soon Demi’s school ‘cool for the summer’ friends came and pick her up to bring her to whatever surprise they prepared. Miley went with her. With the minors gone, the booze started to come and the adults started their fun. And not later on, Billy Ray was on the makeshift stage and drunkenly singing about his achy breaky heart. Demi’s parents interviewed them about their university lives. Demi would go to college soon and they want to convince her to choose a uni not far from their home. However, Louis couldn’t defend their desire since he too was from overseas. Ryan on the other hand gave his opinion to their horrified faces that supply exceeds demand these days; they should make Demi find a work while her competitors are in college. 

Aside from that awkward interview, the two boys were left alone. They didn’t really mind. Ryan was busying himself taking pictures of everyone and everything. He was concentrated on his job and it gave Louis a fond feeling. What, has it been a week since he met this guy? So much had happened. 

“You’re a photographer, Ryan?” Louis asked, hiding his smile behind his fourth cup of liquor. 

Ryan glanced only once at him then continued snapping. “I had a camera like this once. It got robbed in the train, the first time I crossed the country.” 

“You didn’t buy another one?” 

“I went to buy myself a new guitar. Needed it better than a camera.” 

“Oh.” 

They were sitting the farthest corner of the backyard where none of the adults took notice of them or drag them to their mundane conversations. It was now twilight. The twilight breeze was sweet to the cheeks. He was tired. Being able to nod off for only few moments in the past restless night caught up with him. He had nothing to worry about anymore; their stomachs were full, their things were safe in the foyer of the house, their money and mobile phones in money heaven. Nothing to worry about. Just move on. He could sleep right there in content. Louis closed his eyes. 

“Are you having a moment? Please don’t. You look ridiculous.” 

Louis opened his eyes and shot a middle finger at Ryan. 

Ryan was laughing. He angled the camera at him. “Close your eyes again. I’ll take a picture of you.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“No. Close your eyes, Lou. You’re pretty doing that.” 

He was fully awake. He was expecting the older man to laugh or apologize because you shouldn’t say things like that like it was no big deal. _You’re only supposed to hear things like that when you are with Harry, on your first date which happened three days after you’ve met. In a shite diner in the university where you share a meal with him, you close your eyes because you’re so tired from all the academic works and all the_ abeuna studia in mores. _And he says ‘You’re so pretty,’ and you look up at him and he’s covering his mouth, clearly not meaning to say that thought out loud. You are confused, because how can a boy be pretty? But he looks really embarrassed, he really thinks you are. You studied his face and you came into a conclusion that he’s beautiful as well. You gave him a shy smile and he returns it with regained confidence. And the both of you are giddy and happy and contented._

But this? Ryan was just staring at him with bored expression. He was serious and completely not taking the piss. Then he’s grumbling, “What? I lied the first time, okay? You don’t look ridiculous. Jesus, can’t anyone around here accept compliments without looking so shocked? Just thank God for every compliment you get, people.” 

“Thank you,” Louis stuttered. 

“There! You’re welcome.” 

Then Louis snorted and spilled the contents of his cup at the boy. “Yeah, Ryan. Coming from you, that compliment really means a lot.” 

“You little fucker!” Ryan screamed. “This is my favorite shirt. Brendon gave this to me!” 

“Too bad he can’t give you another one,” Louis said and got up. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To the loo.” He didn’t look back once but he knew Ryan was following him. Save for the maids gossiping among themselves in the kitchen, the house was empty; all of the occupants were still having fun outside. The maids pointed where the bathroom should be. Ryan followed him inside the small toilet and silently locked the door behind him. The older boy searched for his eyes when Louis was keeping his silence. He took a step towards him, crowding him by the lavatory. 

Louis let out a nervous laugh. “I do actually have to pee, you know. I’m not actually planning to fondle you in the toilet.” 

“I know. _I_ want to.” 

Louis finally looked at the man’s eyes which he had been avoiding. “Are you serious?” he asked. But he knew this was bound to happen. Two longing boys very much alike. One who was fine with just getting by and one held by pride and blinded by hate. This was what it will lead to. Both practically broken-hearted. Both schoolmen from a cynical sector. Both looking for freedom. Both of them together. It was lucky that he was not the only one thinking about that the whole time. 

Ryan leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. He stood back to inspect Louis’ reactions. It was Louis who moved next. The younger boy put his hands around Ryan’s neck and closed the gap between their mouths. The kiss was slothfully long and needy and it was amazing how they immediately found a rhythm. Both their chests hurt because of the camera crushed between them and it was giving them an irritating distance so they had to pull back to get the offending object off first. Once gone, they were instantly back to each other’s arms. Ryan begged for entrance and Louis opened his mouth to let the tongue in. He moaned as Ryan tasted every part of his mouth. One hand was at the back of his head to keep him from moving and the other was on his hips, traveling upward and downward, then under his shirt. Ryan tugged up. 

Louis had never thought of having a snogging session in a toilet and he never had sex in one before but he was mindless of what was happening. _What the fuck,_ was what he was thinking. _Whatever. Just let it happen. Que sera, sera._

He bit at Ryan’s lip. The boy hissed a curse between the kiss and it sent a shiver down Louis’ spine. Ryan was riding his shirt up and just as Louis took a step back to let him take his shirt off, there was a knock on the door. 

“Uh… George? Bill?” 

Billy Ray. Fucking Billy Ray who hitchhiked across the country in his youth. 

Without any more comments, Ryan and Louis stopped and stepped away from each other, eyes everywhere in the toilet but not on the boy in front of them. 

“Boys? Ahh… I mean, I know you’re like… uh…” a nervous laugh there. “But we don’t think it’s… appropriate to…” 

“Yeah… I mean, of course, you can do _that_.” It was Mr. Lovato who has a stone and a heart of gold. “We’re just… because everyone would be using this toilet and, you know, you can’t stay there for long.” 

Louis understood. The priest never had a problem like that with Jean Valjean. 

Ryan silently grabbed the camera from the sink and turned away. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door and left, leaving Louis to do what his original purpose in the little toilet. When he came out minutes later, the two adults and Ryan were still outside the door. The two grown men were telling something to Ryan and when he came out, they stopped. 

“Bill, I hope you understand,” Mr. Lovato said nervously. 

Louis pruned the unnecessary apology with a smile of his own. “All fine, sir. No biggie.” Ryan gave him a small grin. 

Nothing would change between them. What they did in the bathroom meant nothing. To think otherwise was an affectation. He couldn’t explain it. The session they’ve had was heated, yes, but not intimate though not totally devoid of any emotions either. Because he would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine it was Harry he was kissing earlier. And he wouldn’t deny that he knew Ryan was thinking of Brendon, too. It all meant nothing and a few something. And that’s all right. 

“Do you have a Wi-Fi around here?” Louis asked. 

“Uh… what will you do?” 

Louis laughed at Mr. Lovato’s uneasiness. “I would just like to contact my mum.” 

END OF CHAPTER FOUR


	5. Prints

_“The sun will stop shining soon_  
_And you'll be dark in my life_  
_Yeah, you'll be gone, it's as simple as a change of heart_  
_But I'm not gonna think about the future_  
_A love like this won't last forever_  
_I know that a love like this won't last forever_  
_But I, I don't really mind, I don't really mind at all.”_

\--Kodaline, _Love Like This_

Well it seemed like the Lovatos’ kindness knows no end. Louis and Ryan ended up spending the night in the Lovato residence, in the little guest room upstairs by the charitable couple’s insistence. They hadn’t heard Demi or Miley’s return in the night. But they were told in the morning that the two girls were soundly asleep in Demi’s room while Billy Ray craftily escaped from his own daughter by checking in a hotel not far from the suburb after the adults broke out of the party. The daughter was not told where her father has gone to and she wouldn’t have any idea until he picked her up in the afternoon. Meanwhile, Louis changed his mind and decided not to tell his mum of his cruel demise after all. He did do his part however to contact her and tell her they were resting in a house owned by a man who was a great fan of Les Miserables. He e-mailed Patrick about the robbing anyway so at least one close to him knows, but warned him not to tell Jay. He reasoned it would save her the worry. Patrick didn’t reply in the 12 hours of night where Louis was connected to the Wi-Fi. Maybe his cousin was really busy at work. By 4am he e-mailed Patrick again, saying that he doesn’t know when and where he could contact him next. But _don’t worry; I still got your address. I’m going there. Ryan Ross is with me._ In the morning after a generous breakfast, the two boys were readying to leave them accommodating house when Mr. Lovato stopped them by the great doorway. 

“James Scott.” 

“What?” 

“He’s an old friend of Billy Ray and I. Hitchhiked with us on the days back. You can stop at his house when you get to Knoxville; that is _if_ you are going to Knoxville.” 

“Well, if it wouldn’t be a bother,” Ryan trailed off. 

Mr. Lovato gave a reassuring smile. “No. It won’t. He’s very kind. I already rang him. He’ll be expecting you this summer.” He told them his address. 

“Thank you, sir, for everything.” Louis nodded at the man. “We’ll be off.” The old man reached for a handshake, and when he got to Louis, he slipped in five Andrew Jacksons and some change in his hand. Louis was baffled. “Sir, this is too much. We couldn’t possibly take this—” 

Mr. Lovato chuckled. “It’s nothing. It won’t even take you far and you’ll have a long way to go. To LA, you said your final destination was? This won’t even take you halfway there. And the summer is long. Pray that along the way, God will help you. Very well, off you go.” In a contrite voice, he quoted the forgiving bishop in Hugo’s novel: “Now, go in peace. Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use these to become an honest man.” 

They left with hearts full and brains sort of fuzzy. To think that kind people like him still exists. Ryan was right. 

_It wasn’t so bad, after all,_ Louis thought. _It wasn’t so bad just getting by._

They walked in a slow pace, basking in the warm heat of the sun in that early morning. Summer was not yet at its best but it was still a good day. There was no hurry. When did they ever? 

They cut through the Fairmount Park and stopped in a gazebo for a while, watching the joggers and cyclists and families all around. 

“Where will we go next?” Louis asked quietly as they sat in the steps. 

Ryan hummed then shrugged. He didn’t know where yet. 

The wind was cool there. Louis stared at the sky above and the trees around. “Maybe we could stay here. ‘S a good place. We got our sleeping bags.” 

Ryan shrugged again. “We could.” 

An hour later they were still in the gazebo, lazily exchanging banters back and forth, ( _“I like South Park.” “Yeah, I bet you do. Who’s your favorite character?” A scoff. “Cartman, of course. He’s funny as hell.” “Well, that’s a surprise. I thought you’d like Pip.” “Pip Pirrup? Nope. Pip’s a goddamn tosh.” “I know right? And British.” “What the fuck was that supposed to mean?”_ ), then talking about college lives, ( _“Been to any marching protests yet?” “No. I mean I would like to, your education system kinda sucks, but mum’s not sending me to uni just so she would see me in the telly getting arrested.” “What a shame.” “You?” “Never mind me. Just vandalizing every chance that I get.” “I do hope you don’t get caught.”_ ), then family lives ( _“So about me mum inviting you for Christmas…” “I’m excited about that. I’ve never been to… wait. Where are you from again?” “Doncaster. My mum and my sisters, I’m sure they would like you. They like every friend I bring in there.” “Really? That’s good. I’m also sure mother would like you too. Can’t wait to introduce you to her. Do you play bridge?” “Yeah. Pete and Gee taught me.” “I stand corrected. She will love you.”_ ). They had wanted to show each other pictures of their beloved family but they remembered that those were tucked in their wallets which they surrendered to a gun-wielding lunatic. 

Neither brought up yesterday’s kiss, and for Louis, that was for the best. 

A late-morning jogger (who possessed the look of a cunning, deceitful man, Louis noted; ever since the mugging every stranger appeared to be dangerous to him) passed in front of them, headphones so loud _500 Miles_ was leaking from the earpieces. Louis and Ryan sang to the tune when the blonde man jogged away. 

_“But I’m gonna walk 500 miles, and then I’m gonna walk 500 more, just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door.”_

They broke off into fits of laughter afterwards. In that moment they were friends. After a while, they both got up and started to move. Ryan restarted snapping photos when they were neared the river. When they exited the park by a cathedral, it was quarter to noon. Ryan announced that they would be walking their way to Ohio. 

2 

They stayed a total of ten nights in Cleveland; the first two nights they stayed under a railway station along with the other homeless people, the third night they camped out in the park, and the last three they managed to get themselves checked in at the cheapest inn they could find (that was after they got themselves a temporary job). 

There was a communal dining service near the park. Louis and Ryan were eating there, spending one of the Jacksons, and the older boy was thinking they should earn some cash before they make their way to their next destination (Ryan has Florida in mind). Their server was a girl, and though it seemed unfair, it seemed lucky and Ryan convinced Louis to use his ‘British charm’ to ask the girl if there was any way he could talk to their boss. She (whose name is Daya according to her nameplate), blushed and called for the manager. Steve Aoki (THE boss) was unmoved at first. He said his staff was full and the idea of hiring two ‘veeeery’ temporary workers was unappealing. But he changed his mind. Louis didn’t know how or why but when they were ready to leave, Steve told them to wait. He called for another employee, a boy named Charlie, then told him he could finally have the day-off he’s been ‘begging’ for the last few days. Seven days-off as a matter of fact. The four of them, Charlie, Louis, Ryan and Daya, were in ecstatic. Steve would pay them both $9/hour and they would get it at the end of the week. Louis was to wash the dishes and Ryan was to serve customers. They would have to start the next day as they smelled bad. “Can’t have that foul smell here,” Steve had said. “Be here at four in the morning.” They were dismissed and Louis and Ryan went searching for a cheap inn which and took a shower. 

The next seven days at the diner were lots of fun. Louis didn’t mind working. He himself has a work as a library assistant back in Harvard. Sure, both works were very far-off from each other, but that’s not the point. He was given a plain white shirt and he was on his feet in the kitchen all day, doing his task. At one o’ clock, the diner closes to let the employees grab a snack and rest then opens again at five in the afternoon. Louis and Ryan share lunch with Daya and their other co-workers. Daya wasn’t even subtle in hiding her crush on Louis but in the week that followed, Louis didn’t mind. She was just a teen after all; he wouldn’t mind being her happy, fleeting crush. Ryan and Louis didn’t find out anything deeper in their co-workers, such a shame, only the basics: Daya was in high school, Bryan was starting college, Julia liked anime, Edward had mommy-issues, Ralph wanted to be a singer, Minerva have two kids already, and Steve Aoki was pretty lenient as a boss whose diner was sort of the most famous diner in the area. Daya also swore he hosts the best Fourth of July and Christmas parties. Ryan took pictures of every one of those new faces. 

After lunch break and before they reopen, the two boys would walk around Cleveland (and other sites besides). The first day they went to Lake Erie and the submarine memorial ashore. The third day, their co-workers treated them to see Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame and Museum. On the fifth, they went to see Cleveland Museum of Art. On the sixth they went celebrity-tomb hunting in the Lake View Cemetery (they were late for thirty minutes because of that). They took pictures of everything. Never once did that camera left in their inn. 

On their last night at the inn, they would still have to go to work in the morrow. Ryan had proposed that when the diner closes at ten, they would leave by foot and go to Florida. Louis had agreed. And on that particular night, they went back to their place, bones and muscles screaming in agony. 

“Fuck,” Ryan muttered as he stretched in his bed. 

Louis frowned. “What? Your workload is way lighter than mine. Why are you so tired?” 

“I’m standing all day too, Lou. And if you have to hear all day everyday every goddamn customer complaints, you’d be fucking exhausted too.” 

“Point taken,” Louis said and closed his eyes. He heard Ryan get up from the bed. 

“I’ll be using the shower first,” he said. Louis nodded in acknowledgement. 

When the boy was in the bathroom, Louis opened his eyes and looked around. He never really appreciated that room especially that he and Ryan had to work. And now that they would be checking out in the morning well, it was kind of sad. There was longing in his chest. Call him a sentimentalist, he’s always has been. 

There was a portrait near the window. It drew Louis’ attention, making him leave the bed and inspect it closer. The portrait was not real. It was a copy of some painting by an unknown artist, printed in mere paper then framed and hanged. Still such a beauty though that one would be impeded from thinking. It showed a postcard-like landscape. A summer to autumn season maybe. There was the violet sky. A cottage with a chimney standing on an orange grassland. There’s a swing in front of the hut covered with flowers. In front of the cottage was a pond laden with lilies and six swans swimming. At the back were the dark woods, the green forest, then the blue mountains. It was twilight there. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Louis almost jumped when he heard Ryan’s voice. He turned around. The older boy had a playful smirk on his face. 

“Are you entranced by that painting, Lou? Well, bad news for ya, it’s just paper.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny. I know what it is.” 

“You could use the shower now. Come on, the water’s cool.” And he needed that, what with the hot nights coming along. 

When Louis returned after taking a bath, Ryan was still in his towel. He’s already dried up but he was just sitting there, idly mopping up his hair. 

“What’s with you and that picture?” he asked. 

“None of your business, Ross,” Louis answered. He sat on his bed and faced Ryan. “Why aren’t you in your clothes yet? I mean, sure it’s hot but,” he stared pointedly at the air-conditioning unit turned on at full blast. _I mean, there’s no reason for you to get naked unless you want a cold._

“I’ll tell if you tell.” 

“You will laugh and think I’m being sappy.” 

“Haven’t I already?” 

“I haven’t even told Harry, or anyone, about this.” 

“I’m not Harry… or anyone.” 

“You’ll think it’s gay.” 

Ryan was confused. “Aren’t you?” 

“Touché.” Louis heaved a sigh. Inwardly, he wished he still had all the lessons in high school he’d had of rhetoric so he could explain this properly. “It’s one of those suddenly-remembering-your-childhood-things. I had lots of pictures like that when I was young. Some cut out from magazines, others from the front of photo albums. I liked them a lot, is the point. They’re my dreams. I thought they were real places you can really dwell in. They were real places, right? Like, somewhere around the world, someone still lives in a cottage in a mountain or a near a river?” 

Ryan shrugged. “Yeah, sure. In the 1800s.” 

The younger boy hissed. “I knew it. Well the point is, I had wanted to live in a cottage on a hilltop looking over green meadows and a pond or a waterfall… like that in the picture. Very quiet and peaceful. Look at it. All picturesque. I would be far from the world. I would be contented. It would only just be me. Imagine living in a place like that. And imagine all the photographs I could take.” 

Ryan looked at the camera lying on top of table between their two beds. “Yeah, I guess it makes sense. So… you saw that picture and you found out you still want to live in a place like that?” 

“Could I ever?” 

“I’ll help you find one. Or we could just build a little house of our own. The two of us. We’ll have lots of acres of land. We’ll build a farm behind our cabin. We’ll have cows and chickens, all kinds of farm animals. You’ll grow vegetables, lots and lots of it while I tend the farm. Then… maybe we’ll have rabbits. You take care of the rabbits.” 

A smile fought its way to Louis’ lips. “Why does it sound like you’re borrowing those lines from someone else?” 

“You study American Literature?” 

“No. Only seen the movie.” 

“Okay. Let me do it that way then.” He hunched his shoulder then leaned back on the bed and propped himself on one hand. He raised one foot up in the mattress and rested an elbow on its knee. He narrowed his eyes, perfectly copying Garry Sinise’s expression. Louis laughed. “Guys like us that work on ranches are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no family, they don’t belong in no place. They got nothing to look ahead to.” 

Louis couldn’t take it anymore. He giggled, and then he roared. He was howling with laughter. He barely even recognized Ryan joining him. They were laughing and laughing and laughing. He was doubling over and Ryan was already coughing. But still they laughed. 

_But not us. We have a future. We have somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us,_ Garry Sinise had said in the film. 

They have each other. Pure coincidence wrought out destiny for them that it would be that way. 

It took forever but the laughter finally subsided. As Louis huffed his final laugh, there was an aching emptiness inside of him, he couldn’t explain it. The ache was so painful. Only when he saw Ryan lowering his eyes, avoiding his gaze, that he thought he’s got an idea where did the pain come from. It was the sad reality that maybe they were closer to being George and Lennie than they wanted to be. They were secluded from the world, no one knows where they were, no one could help them and God, were they alone. So alone and sad and abandoned and just getting by. And no one knew what’s going to happen to them next. 

He started to cry. 

“Louis?” 

Amidst the ugly tears, Louis managed a big smile. “Does that mean we’re never going to have that farm and the little house? Because George and Lennie never got them.” 

Ryan looked so sad. “Do you see that coming? Could we ever? But you know this whole thing won’t last.” 

“Fuck.” Louis wiped his tears away. He fixed himself and tried to smile again at the older boy. “Fuck you. Building my hopes up and tearing them down like that.” 

“You know what age we are on, Lou. No sane person would want to live in a fucking mountain. The progress and happiness are in the cities, in a place with lots of people.” 

“Yeah. Fuck.” He finally managed to control himself from the sobbing and the hiccupping. “Fuck. Where were we? Oh, you and your nakedness.” 

“This? Well I was kinda hoping you… and me… we… in the bed… nookie? Is that what you call it? But then you turned on the waterworks.” 

Louis was stunned. His heart seemed to have skipped a beat. It took long moments for him to react. Oddly enough, Ryan was looking away from him and not saying anything more. Only he can blurt out something stupid like that in all seriousness then shut up and be coy like a child. Louis detected a small tinge of blush. 

“Why?” 

No answer. 

“Are you serious? You want me that way?” 

“I mean not all the way _that_ way but…” Ryan looked down to his hands. It was the first time Louis had seen him so shy and tingling of vexation. It was quite endearing. “I’ve been thinking what happened to us back in Philadelphia. In the toilet before Billy Ray came on pounding at the door. I know you are trying to forget that but—” 

Louis shut him up by pushing his lips down to his. 

3 

He was different from Harry, Louis needed no more confirmation. In height, in built, in personality, and in the way he was holding him that night. The taste of his lips, too, and the way he feels inside of him. Where Harry was always so gentle, always treating him like a glass endangered of breaking, Ryan was a little harsh. His teeth bit deep to Louis’ throat. He was a tease too with the way he licked that lovebite and only tugging his cock once in a while but never letting him come. He also thrust so fast. Where Harry liked to give long, deep kisses on the lips (ones as if he doesn’t know what to do if they leave yours), Ryan gave chaste ones all over the face. Where Harry always made him feel protected by his hard and muscled body, Ryan’s skin was milky soft like the both of them would break any minute and they would melt together. And where Harry was always whispering sweet, teasing and sometimes dirty words to Louis’ ear while pounding in on him, Ryan gave unnecessary observations. “You have such blue eyes.” “You’re tan.” “Your body’s so small, so thin.” “Your arms…” “Your legs…” “Your jaws…” “Your voice…”And when he realized what Ryan was doing, Louis knew he had to stop comparing him to Harry, just so he would have a right to tell Ryan off. 

Louis gasped. “Harry.” 

It made Ryan paused. He reached for both Louis’ wrists and pinned them above his head. “Don’t call for Harry. I’m not him.” He looked very unpleased. 

Louis stared up at him defiantly. There were tears trickling from his eyes. “Then stop comparing me to Brendon,” he croaked out. 

At first Ryan did not seem to understand where he’s coming from. Then he smiled in amusement. “Touché,” he said and held the boy’s face underneath him and licked the tears clean. He gave up on his observations. He kissed his forehead. Afterwards he returned his focus on pushing and pulling his dick out of the younger boy. Louis locked his ankles around Ryan’s waist, his arms around his shoulders, and he closed his eyes, concentration on the sensation of Ryan hitting him on a certain spot inside. 

The room felt so hot. Ryan’s bed seemed so small. And time seemed so fast and not enough. What they’re doing is not enough. 

“Slow down,” he whispered in Ryan’s ear. “Please. I want to feel you.” 

Ryan did. And for a while they were just breathing in each other’s ears while Ryan kept moving slowly in and out of Louis. The Brit buried his head at the crook of Ryan’s neck, not by chagrin but by longing and need. He felt his insides building up, nearing to come. At that he nudged the older boy and urged him to move faster. They came together. 

Ryan quietly extracted himself from Louis. He got up and went to the bathroom. Louis lied on his side and pulled up the blanket to cover himself with. He wondered if Ryan would kick him out of the bed. He hoped he wouldn’t. He curled up in a ball and willed himself to sleep. But still he heard Ryan padding back from the bathroom. He felt something wet touched his thigh. He opened his eyes, saw Ryan with an unreadable expression, saw the damp towel in his hands. 

“Straighten up,” he said quietly. “I’ll clean you up.” 

After he cleaned him off the semen, the towel was discarded carelessly on the floor. He crawled under the covers, lied behind Louis, encircled his arms around his waist and pulled his back close to his chest. Louis smiled. He put one hand on top of Ryan’s forearm. There were no words. They were getting good at it. Once he felt lips touched his shoulderblade, then a weight behind his head as Ryan leaned his forehead. He liked that. He slept peacefully because of that. 

4 

On their last day at the diner, they were the center of jokes and friendly insults. It was Steve who started it first when he saw the large, begging-to-be-noticed hickey on Louis’ throat. The boss knew there was no one who could give that to the young boy except Ryan Ross who was positively ignoring everyone in the room. 

“Had a lovely night, boys? What was that, a celebratory sex?” 

Louis reddened while Ryan sauntered off quickly to the dressing room to change to his uniform. Daya and her co-workers whistled. As if they didn’t know that Louis and Ryan were together (the boys didn’t tell anyone about their relationship but they had their suspicions. And duh, they were always kind of weird with each other). 

It was the shortest day of Louis’ life as he worked. After lunchbreak, they chose to hang around the diner with their one-week co-workers and chat about stupid shit. They had enough of Cleveland anyway. At closing time, Steve called them to his little office and gave them their salary. He thanked them for their services and the boys thanked him for the opportunity. 

“Yeah, normally I wouldn’t accept part-timers but that asshole Charlie Puth has been getting under my skin, talking about how he wants to make up with his ex, ergo the constant request for a day-off. Stupidest reason in the world if you ask me. You know what Benjamin Franklin said about that? That he’s paying too much for his whistle. Now I’ll have to wait for him tomorrow and see if he’ll be here to save the day without the two of you around.” He paused. “But you boys handled all the work very well. I got headaches all the time with newbies bustling about but you… I’m impressed. Maybe you could part-time here again next year and not just for a week. Maybe for a whole summer.” 

Louis and Ryan thanked him again and, sure, working there again would be terrific. 

Steve noted the duffel bags lying in the corner of his office. “You leaving Ohio tonight?” 

“Yeah. Off to Florida. I promised Louis here that we’ll see Disneyworld.” 

“It’s good then that I’ve enclosed a little extra for each of you there,” he motioned to the enveloped in their hands. 

Louis flushed. It was like Mr. Lovato all over again. 

“And before you make a protest, just know that it’s another way of me saying I’m impressed with your work attitude.” Then he frowned as if an idea struck him. “Then again, you only worked here for a week. How the hell should I know about your attitude? How did I not think of that earlier…” he grimaced. 

“Louis’ British charms,” Ryan suggested. Louis elbowed him. 

“Get out of here, you little shits, before I ripped that envelopes and take back your bonuses. Have a nice trip and get in touch, okay?” 

They left Cleveland at exactly eleven in the evening. They stop beside a railway station for the rest of the night. At dawn they were walking the streets of Columbus. And in the afternoon, an RV was willing to take them to their next destination. 

END OF CHAPTER FIVE


	6. Premonitions

_“Can I get another Amen? (Amen!)_   
_There's a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!)_   
_A gag, a plastic bag on a monument_   
_I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies_   
_This is the dawning of the rest of our lives_   
_On holiday!”_

\--Green Day, _“Holiday”_

The truth was Ashton didn’t really mean it when he said that he doesn’t want to celebrate the Fourth of July weekend with his grandparents in Maine. He kept saying to his friends that it would be the most boring Fourth of July in their old ancestral house but, yeah, it didn’t mean that he didn’t miss his grandpa who was his first music teacher and grandma who knits him not just sweaters, mind you, but jeans and shirts and jackets almost like a carbon copy of those in billboards and magazines. The truth was Ashton wouldn’t mind spending Fourth of July in Maine. He was not a miser who wanted to have the best of both worlds and be greedy about it. He was just saying that whether he celebrated Independence Day in Maine or here in Ohio, it would be perfectly okay. 

But the temptation of pissing his dad and mom off about said weekend in Maine was just too great. He begged to them to leave him alone in Ohio (which his parents were not hearing at first). How many songs have he heard in his lifetime saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’? That’s right. A lot. 

He didn’t expect that his mom would let him (punish him) not to spend holiday with them at all. And it was all because of an ‘innocent’ talk and Calum fucking Hood. And that should be no surprise for him. Calum was pretty much the reason for everything: why they started a band, why they called it 5 Seconds Of Summer, why they were playing in pubs every Wednesday night instead of studying and/or getting laid, why Ashton was suddenly dreaming to be one of the best drummers in the world instead of be the most regarded historian. How Calum got all that convincing power, no one would ever know. 

The Irwins were packing up their things in their car, readying themselves for the journey. Out of nowhere Calum and Michael Clifford came. The two bastards were grinning like idiots. Ashton wanted to punch their throats. The two were teasing him since they, along with Luke Hemmings, were granted permissions by their own families to have a road-trip celebration of Independence Day with their friends. They were college students, for fuck’s sake. They could do whatever the fuck they want. 

Anyway, Ashton entertained his two ‘visitors’ in the living room. He had finished packing his things at the back of his car and his parents were just having a chat with their neighbors so he saw no harm. They drifted off talking about the weekend, as what always happens when the conversation was good, and soon they were talking about nonsense shits, things puzzling for their childish minds, things that should easily be resolved because Tim Berners-Lee invented World Wide Web for a reason. Michael was talking about his girlfriend and their amazing sex life and out of nowhere Calum said: “I’ve never seen a vagina in all my life.” 

Michael and Ashton both laughed at that. What a fucking loser Calum was. All high and mighty about the freedom university life offers and he hadn’t even seen a vagina and he’s a _fucking_ virgin (No, scratch the ‘fucking’ part. He can’t be ‘fucking’ if he’s a virgin). But Calum was looking really downcast, really serious about that confession of corporeal need. At that point in time Ashton also forgot the genius who invented Pornhub to ease Calum’s down feelings. He said, “Can’t you just pay a woman to let her show you?” 

Calum was annoyed. “I can’t do that, fuck-tard. That’s fucking prostitution!” 

“Well just picture one. A vagina, I mean,” Ashton said. “My teacher in high school said all you got to do is imagine the pink lips of man with a mustache and a beard.” 

Michael howled and Calum looked _impressed_. “Setting aside the gross, what high school teacher?” 

“Brother McCartney.” 

“He’s a brother?! He works in a church and he tells you that stuff?!” 

Ashton dismissed Calum’s shock with a wave of a hand. “I told you I was in a parochial school. And it was his job to tell us about the birds and the bees, anyway. Best sex-ed if you ask me. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“Ashton!” 

He would find this funny later on but at that moment it seemed stupid how the three of them looked at the door way in unison and be embarrassed and surprised all at the same time. How was he supposed to know that his little brother and sister (both under the age of 12) were there the whole time and had the importunity to listen about vaginas and prostitutions and weird brothers? And how was he supposed to know that his mother and father had just finished their neighborhood talk and just walked in to call for their children? He couldn’t. 

And that’s how he got punished. That’s why he was in Luke’s RV with the three other lads, miserable to spend Fourth of July with them to drive to Florida. Damn Calum and his fucking mouth. Thinking about it, the weekend with grandpa’s dirty lame jokes and grandma’s sweet pies was heaven compared to Michael’s incessant talks about Normani, Calum’s unlimited Green Day records, and Luke’s stupid eyes and stupid hair and stupid pretty mouth and stupid pretty body. Hell he could have just stayed in the house but then that would be boring and lonely. 

They were in the roads of Cincinnati by three in the afternoon. Ashton had just given up listening to Billie Joe Armstrong singing about American Idiots in the front of the car when he looked out the window and he saw two figures standing on the street. He registered their faces first before their hitched thumbs. He yelled “STOP!” and Luke stepped on the brakes suddenly with such confusion. Behind them, Calum and Michael, who were playing chess, cursed him. Their pieces and the board were thrown to the ground. 

“What is it, Ash?” Luke asked. 

Ashton didn’t even notice the butterflies in his stomach when Luke called him Ash. He just went straight to the door, pulled it open with a brute force he didn’t know he possessed, and greeted the two familiar figures by the RV’s steps. 

“Hey, you,” he greeted lamely. 

The tanned one who has blue eyes (he’s British if Ashton remembered correctly) recognized him first. “You!” Oh, he’s British all right. 

The other one had an impassive look on his face. He’s Ryan Ross, Ashton thought excitedly. Panic! At The Disco’s guitarist. He recognized him even without the makeup. 

Calum and Michael were crowding behind him, then, getting a good look of the two boys and the huge bags strapped on their backs. 

“You go to Uni with us,” Calum stated. 

The two boys exchanged a look then shrugged. “I guess,” the British one said. 

“You’re Ryan Ross from Panic,” Calum stated again. He was running for Captain Obvious. “I know you.” He turned to the tanned one. “But who are you?” 

Before the boy could answer, Ashton piped up with pride, “His name’s Louis Tomlinson. You know The Chemical Fall Out? He’s Patrick Stump’s cousin.” He looked over to Louis and goddamn, wasn’t the boy just the prettiest when he’s smiling like that? 

“You remembered me,” Louis said, still with that heartwarming smile. 

Ashton blushed a little. “Yeah, of course. You looked awfully lonely that night.” He didn’t mean to say that out loud and now he was wishing he didn’t. He didn’t see Louis’ reaction though when he noticed Luke getting up from his seat and joining them to the small doorway. 

“Where are you headed to?” Luke asked. “Maybe we could drive you there.” 

“Florida,” Ryan spoke. “I’m taking Louis to see Disneyworld.” Ashton knew he wasn’t imagining the hint of possessiveness in his voice and the way his hand curled up behind Louis’ neck. He also didn’t miss the pointed glance Ryan gave to him and for sure none of them missed the red glaring hickey on Louis’ throat now that Ryan brought their attention to it. Cheeky bastard. 

“Today is your lucky day,” Michael announced. “For we are also going to Orlando! How is that?” 

Ryan and Louis took the information as if it that sort of amazing luck happens all the time. “Thank you,” Louis said. Ryan whistled. 

Michael was still celebrating. “You are going to spend Fourth of July with us! And why not, we’re all Crimsons! We all believe in _Veritas_!” He was as excited as the time he won seven boxes of free pizza last spring. 

“Would it be all right?” Louis asked. Damn that accent. 

“Harvard Crimsons! _Veritas_! Harvard Crimsons! _Veritas_!” Michael chanted, and that’s all the approval they needed. 

They were on the road again with two new passengers, taking I-75S. Ashton was still riding shotgun but once in a while he would look to the rearview mirror and catch a glimpse of a beautiful British boy playing bridge with his two idiot friends and the possessive guitarist. Who was Ashton not to appreciate such beauty? He’s so pretty. And he looked so happy, a far cry from the miserable face he had when Ashton first met him that night. He had thought that that misery was permanent. Sometimes you know if something will be permanent or not and that night Ashton knew. But something changed. Whatever it was, it could have something to with Ryan Ross’ inclusion in the picture. He’ll find out. In the meantime, he’ll appreciate what he was seeing. Though one should note that however pretty Ashton thought Louis to be, the Brit’s not as pretty as the one driving beside him… 

He looked to his right to complete that inner monologue when he stopped. Luke was looking unpleased. He was unhappy, angry. Ashton noticed the way he glared at Louis’ unsuspecting figure in the rearview mirror. He only stopped when he saw Ashton staring at him and he wiped the angry façade off with a smile. Out of his character, he reached out a hand and brushed an offending hair that fell on Ashton’s forehead. “You all right, love?” he asked. 

Realization dawned on Ashton. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

He was jealous. He was possessive, too. _He was possessive of me._

This was going to be the most interesting Fourth of July ever. 

2 

Since that morning, Ryan had been teasing Louis of his ‘British charms.’ He had even asked if Louis was really Irish for all those lucky charms he had with him, to which Louis replied that Niall Horan was the Irish one, not him. And when Ryan asked who the fuck was Niall Horan, Louis replied that he’s one of Harry’s many friends. 

“Whatever,” Ryan had said when they were still walking beside the highway. “Could I take you now with me every summer? Because, aside from that mugging in Long Island, things are going smoothly for me. We’re lucky together. That’s what my mind conceived, anyway, these past few days. What do you say? Be with me.” 

Louis was considering that proposal when that RV showed up. He stuck his thumb up, not really wanting a ride, just wanting to see if Ohio was one of the states who deem hitchhiking to be illegal. He never really saw it coming that the RV would stop, and a familiar face would come stumbling down to greet them. 

“You remembered me,” Louis had said to Ashton with a nostalgic smile when the boy told his friends what his name was. He didn’t actually remember if they introduced themselves to each other, it was a blurry evening. That night, Battle of the Bands, seemed like five years ago. That night when one band sang about a girl looking perfect in a boy’s American underwear, another singing how they wish to go back to the good, old days, and another singing about picking up things they shouldn’t read. Gerard and Patrick sang about the black parade their fathers brought them to in their boyhood. Louis remembered Gerard capturing Patrick’s lips and pulling his cousin to the gents. He remembered a certain wedding proposal and how the crowd was so awed. Weeks or years ago? It really seemed like years. 

“Yeah, of course. You looked awfully lonely that night,” Ashton had replied. Louis remembered being so self-piteous, too. He remembered being sat beside Ryan. In the morning after they got to know each other’s names, they… 

They ran away together without thinking. Only demented ones do that. 

Fuck. Was it really a month ago? Many things had happened since then and now he was in that comfortable old RV, on his way to celebrate his first Fourth of July (What would his family think of him?). Thirteen cards on his hand (five aces, three hearts, four clubs, one heart; no face cards, no right to bid, no sir), three other boys in front of him on the car’s floor, and Green Day’s American Idiot album played in a loop. 

Calum, his partner in the game, was deathly serious holding his cards. In a snap, though, that concentration disappeared when the opening drum riffs of _Jesus Of Suburbia_ came on. He threw his cards in the air and stood up. 

“I'm the son of rage and love!” he shouted. “The Jesus of Suburbia, from the bible of none of the above, on a steady diet of… _Sing with him, assholes_!” 

“Soda pop and Ritalin!” Michael joined in and stumped the cards with his feet. “No one ever died for my sins in hell, as far as I can tell, at least the ones I got away with!” 

“And there's nothing wrong with me, this is how I'm supposed to be. In a land of make believe, that don't believe in me!” Michael and Calum shouted-sang with clasped hands. 

“Get my television fix!” Luke yelled as he drove on. 

“Sitting on my crucifix!” Ashton yelled, too. 

Now the four of them were singing. Ashton was brushing off the equipages in front of him with angry hands. “The living room or my private womb, while the Moms and Brads are away! To fall in love and fall in debt… to alcohol and cigarettes, and Mary Jane to keep me insane, doing someone else's cocaine! And there's nothing wrong with me. This is how I'm supposed to be! In a land of make believe, that don't believe in me!” 

“Louis! Ryan! What are you doing?” Ashton laughed. “Join us!” 

“We got more than a fucking minute, motherfucker!” Calum said. “And we weren’t even here since nineteen-eighty-fucking-eight! Louis, do the next fucking verse!” 

_What the fuck, I’m surrounded by nimrods, mad as a bag of ferrets,_ Louis thought and, with all his holy wisdom, let go. He threw his cards away in faux angst. “At the center of the Earth in the parking lot of the 7-11 where I was taught… The motto was just a lie… It says home is where your heart is but what a shame 'cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same…. It's beating out of time… City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway, signs misleading to nowhere. City of the damned, lost children with dirty faces today, no one really seems to care.” 

Michael was clapping. “Ryan!” 

Ryan jumped to the top of the couch and did his part. “I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall like the holy scriptures of a shopping mall… And so it seemed to confess… It didn't say much but it only confirmed that the center of the earth is the end of the world… And I could really care less… City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway, signs misleading to nowhere. City of the damned, lost children with dirty faces today, no one really seems to care!” 

The four boys behind were jumping up and down, playing with invisible instruments, and all of them were banging their heads to the music. Luke sped up to sync to the rhythm. He sang, “I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't care!” 

“I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't care!” Ashton seconded the motion. 

“I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't care!” Michael repeated. 

“I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you don't care!” Calum repeated for the last time, holding a marker like it was a microphone. 

“I don't care!” the six screamed. 

Louis grabbed the marker from Calum. “Everyone is so full of shit. Born and raised by hypocrites. Hearts recycled but never saved. From the cradle to the grave.” He raised a hand in a peace sign. “We are the kids of war and peace. From Anaheim to the Middle East. We are the stories and disciples of…” 

“The Jesus of suburbia!” they chorused again. Memories of his boyhood singing Jesus of Picadilly flashed in Louis’ mind but it was gone the moment Michael took the marker from him and continued the song: “Land of make believe, and it don't believe in me. Land of make believe, and it don't believe. And I don't care!” 

“I don't care!” Ashton sang four times while Michael held the marker in front of him and the rest went “Hoo, hoo!” in the background. 

Ryan caught the marker when Michael threw it behind his shoulder. He grabbed Louis and put an arm around his waist. “Dearly beloved are you listening? I can't remember a word that you were saying… Are we demented or am I disturbed? The space that's in between insane and insecure.” 

“Oh, therapy, can you please fill the void?” Luke sang to Ashton. “Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed? Nobody's perfect and I stand accused. For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse.” 

Afterwards all of them just let loose. “To live… and not to breathe! Is to die… in tragedy! To run… to run away! To find… what you believe! And I… leave behind… this hurricane of fucking lies. I lost… my faith to this… this town that don't exist….So I run… I run away… To the lights… of masochists… And I… leave behind… this hurricane of fucking lies…And I… walked this line… a million and one fucking times. But not this time!” 

They let Calum sang the last part. “I don't feel any shame; I won't apologize, when there ain't nowhere you can go. Running away from pain when you've been victimized. Tales from another broken…HOOOMEEEEE!!!” 

“You're leaving... You're leaving... You're leaving...” they sang.“Ah, you're leaving home!” 

“Fuck you all! We’ll be back!” Michael screamed to no one. 

Louis swept the sweat out of his eyes. He was laughing. So was Ryan. So was everybody. 

“I think that’s our best carpool to date,” Ashton said, panting. 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “Yeah.” 

3 

They camped out for the night in the tiny woods away from the roads. They would reach Florida in the morrow afternoon, according to Luke. Then they would meet Michael’s girlfriend and her irritating group of friends. Fortunately, Ryan and Louis’ beaten sleeping bags wouldn’t be in use as Calum offered them his tent. 

“I’ll just sleep in Mikey’s,” the kiwi boy said. The use of that nickname brought an image of a bass-playing, lanky, quiet boy who got Pete Wentz’ affection to Louis’ head. “I offered first,” Calum continued. “’Cause I know Ashton is thinking the same to have an excuse to get inside Luke’s tent. Get it? Tent?” He laughed. “No one is getting laid tonight!” 

“What makes you think Louis and I won’t make love tonight?” Ryan asked him. Even in his exhausted state, he wanted to play a psychological game with Calum. 

Calum was not playing. He raised an eyebrow. “Will you?” 

No, they surrendered easily. They’re too pooped. And yet they gathered with the rest of them around the campfire, having s’mores and a good laugh. Louis had thought he would be out of place. The rest of the blokes were in a band, maybe they would have a band-talk or music-talk, if such things exist. But then Ryan was giving them tips on how to make a convincing and _truthful_ lie (you dig that?) in your financial applications so you can hold on to that precious scholarship. The rest of them (most especially Louis) hanged on to every word. And there it went. They talked about shitty professors, failing grades, nagging parents, stupid dormitories; girls, boys, sex; China, North Korea, ISIS, communists, liberals, republicans; and when they became extremely bored, they went for the classics: ghost stories. 

Louis should have found them to be really scary, especially Ashton’s story about the haunted photograph since he has a camera and nothing is scarier than what’s closest to home, but he was beyond sleepy. Ryan noticed how he yawned every so often, so he stumped Michael’s haunted sex doll with the ghost picture they had in Amityville. That did the deal and they bid them goodnight. 

So they resigned to their tents. But have you experienced that moment when you’re really sleepy but when your head hits the pillows, you’re suddenly alert? That was what happened to Louis. The Brit cursed his luck. Nothing else to do, he just pulled out his laptop from his bag and the camera from Ryan’s and started transferring the pictures to the computer. The memory card was full anyway. 

Ryan lied in his stomach with him and they watched the transfer. Very soon, he and Ryan were joking about Louis’ first Fourth of July and how it would be the most special Fourth of July in his pitiful British life. 

“You really have something against my heritage, are you?” 

“Just teasing, love.” 

Louis just snorted. The transfer was finished and he returned the gadgets to where they were. He lied back on the blankets. 

“Are you sleepy, yet?” Ryan lazily traced patterns at the back of Louis’ hand with his fingertips as he lied close beside him. 

“Ryan, I’m too tired to have your dick up my arse,” Louis hissed but didn’t draw his hand away. 

“No, geez. I’m not in the mood. Why can’t we be on the same page for once?” That was not true; they’ve been on the same page ever since they met. Louis knew it and Ryan knew it as well. See? They were analogue. “No. I’ll just give you a history lesson.” Outside someone screamed, followed by another one laughing. The other boys were having a scary prank, possibly. 

“History lesson?” 

“The history of American Independence. Buckle up. You’ll need this so you would appreciate what would happen tomorrow.” He cleared his throat and then began. 

“Don’t talk rubbish. I’m not fucking ignorant, Ry. They taught us that in school. And in all seriousness? You’re going to lecture about that ugly part of our hist—” 

Ryan cut him off. “It was the cold days of age, the year was 1776…” 

It was a long, hot, uneventful night. 

5 

At four in the afternoon of the next day, they met with Michael’s girl in a coffee shop in Orlando. Normani Kordei was accompanied by her friends from the Cambridge: Lauren Jauregui, Dinah Jane, and Ally Brooke. Four boys, four girls. If Louis didn’t learn from the beginning that Ashton was hitting on Luke (and the other way around), he would have thought that what would take place was a group date. 

Michael met Normani after a Beyoncé concert, it turned out. Normani liked women empowerment; Michael was just there with his ex-girlfriend Camila Cabello, bored out of his fucking wit. Camila broke up with him that particular night after the concert, said she was going away and she didn’t believe in LDR. Normani watched them from the window of Starbucks. She took pity on him when he was just standing there like an abandoned puppy so she went outside to console him. That was it. That was the answer to Andy Williams’ “Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be?” 

The telling-of of Michael and Normani’s ‘meet cute’ brought the other members of the coffee shop table to ask the other ‘couple’ how did they meet. 

“Because you are, right?” Calum asked the bewildered Louis and Ryan. “You are fucking—I mean, dating, or whatnot. Whatever it is you’re doing. You’re seeing each other. You asked me last night what made me think that you’re not about to make love, implying that…” 

“Well, we met…” Louis found out he lost track of the days that passed. “…somewhere about three weeks ago? Can’t really remember. But it was the next morning of the battle of the bands.” 

“And then? And then?” Dinah asked. 

Luke was skeptical. “That’s not even a month ago.” 

Louis looked at Ryan. The latter was nodding his head at him, wanting him to tell the story. “We met at the train station. I was flying back to England that morning but he… and then me... I just decided to spend summer with him. We are running away together. I know it’s weird but if you could look at it in a synthetic logic then…” 

All of them were silent. 

“You know you’re not really making any sense,” Dinah said, Louis’ suggestion of logic completely ignored. “You just met, then you ran away like that? Are you even a couple, for real?” 

Louis was shaking his head. “We… we’re not. But…” _But we kissed. We had sex… unprotected. We slept together. We are making plans for our next summer together. We will see each other’s families. We are planning to buy a farm. We’re not lovers. But we’re not friends. We don’t even know that the other one existed before that night. We are each other’s mirror. We just need each other._ “It’s complicated,” he finally said. “I doubt you’ll understand.” 

Ryan spoke up dryly. “We got dumped by our exes.” It was the simplest justification. Too far from the real reason, if Louis was to be asked. But that will do. 

That it did when the four boys and the four girls were nodding their heads in understanding. “Oh, we see,” Dinah said. “I’ve read a novel like that somewhere. I’m sure it will work out.” 

Ally was clutching her heart. “I hope it will work out. I’m sure you’ll get over your exes.” Michael tipped his glass to that. “Gosh, you look so good together. What a waste it will be if not.” 

Ashton, who Louis believed had a little bit more understanding in him, blurted out, “So that’s why you looked lonely that night! I knew Ryan had something to do with that change of attitude. And… and Ryan… I’m sorry but, were the rumors true then? About you and your vocalist?” 

“Shit. Shut up,” Luke said. 

Ryan forced a grin. “I never concealed the truth to the ones who ask. But I don’t have to announce it every time either.” 

“You’re like each other’s medicine, then,” Lauren put in. 

A bitter truth sank in Louis. No, it did not just sink. It bit deep and still gnawing on his insides, squirming until it gets to his very core. They were just each other’s medicine. And like how you recover from a sickness, you stop taking it. You’re well, you’re all better. You don’t need it anymore. 

They were just temporary fix. Oh no. 

_Do you see that coming? Could we ever? But you know this whole thing won’t last._

George and Lennie. The farm. Steve’s diner. The neon Christmas lights of Nevada. 

6 

Louis’ ‘British charm’ had apparently run out. Traffic was hell and they couldn’t make their way to Walt Disney’s wonderful world. There were fucking people everywhere. Finally, after an hour on the road (an hour when they were supposed to be at Disney’s pearly gates thirty minutes ago), they were still halfway there, Luke gave up honking and convinced everyone on board that they should better turn around and find some quiet place to celebrate Fourth of July instead. 

“But I’ve promised Louis this,” Ryan had protested in the quiet way of his. “This is his first Fourth of July.” 

Louis calmed him down. He said it was no big deal. Personally he wasn’t interested in visiting a place if it’s tight-packed with people. Maybe next time? And he’s British, as a matter of fucking fact. He shouldn’t be celebrating this holiday in the first place. 

The girls gushed at this but Louis paid them no mind. 

Luke drove away. They decided to park and setup on a hill not far from the urban area, a place where they could still watch the fireworks from Disneyworld at nine in the evening. Calum and Lauren took charge in grilling the barbecues while the rest dressed up in American flag-designed top hats and capes and ran wildly around. Few other campers in RVs parked alongside them on that hill, and everyone was friendly with each other. Michael, in particular, had started a chant group by eight in the evening. 

“USA! USA! USA! USA!” 

Louis rolled his eyes. What fucking nimrods. American idiots indeed. 

Then everyone was silent and paused what they were doing by nine to watch the fireworks. Blue and red and white and yellow shot the sky. The next moments were tranquil, peaceful, Louis had to give them that. After the fireworks, Michael’s chant group sang The Star-Spangled Banner. Then they broke off to their families and finished the feasts they prepared. 

7 

Ryan was breathing on his ear. They were both kneeling on whoever-bed-it-was in the RV, but Ryan was directly, intimately close, heavy behind him as a certain muscle kept moving in and out of Louis’ entrance at differing pace. His hands were digging in Louis’ lower body, one between his thighs to keep the boy spread open and the other to take care of Louis’ aching member. The younger man was keeping his grip on the headboards and his voice down low. Although that shouldn’t matter. Blur was playing loudly on Luke’s player (who said you can’t fuck to rock music?) and outside people were still celebrating so it shouldn’t matter if both of their moans were loud (Ryan wouldn’t admit it until later, but Louis’ constant ‘ _uh, uh, uh_ ’ was music to his ears).They still got their shirts on. Louis’ pants were pulled down below his knees while only Ryan’s fly was open. Louis felt the metal zipper and the buttons scratching his bum every time Ryan thrust. 

They were going at it for at most twenty minutes then. No spoken invitation either. Louis just pointed out that the RV was free and then it happened. And still no communication happening. Ryan gave open mouth kisses to Louis’ neck. They were hot and cool and Louis felt tyrant to the good feeling. 

The silence was broken for the better when the door suddenly opened, revealing Luke and Ashton. 

“Come on, guys! There’s still a lot of barbecue arou…” the words died on Ashton’s lips. 

Instead of stopping, Ryan hid his face on the crook of Louis’ neck and kept on moving. Louis ducked his head down but otherwise said nothing. He just cursed them in his head and wished them away. 

“That’s my bed…” Luke said weakly. Few more seconds before the door was slammed shut. They were alone again. 

Louis let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. Suddenly, Ryan was laughing. 

“Shut up, you bell end!” Louis said but he laughed as well. “They’re going to kick us out now.” 

“No, they won’t. They will thank us,” Ryan whispered and kissed his cheek. 

Louis turned his head towards him. “What for? For baptizing their bed with spunk?” he asked in an incredulous tone. 

Ryan hushed him up with a kiss on the lips. “Just wait and see.” He fastened his pace. 

8 

“Come take a look at this,” Lauren called them in a low voice. It was now two in the morning. People were asleep in their respective RVs. But eight _Veritas_ -believing Crimsons were awake on the hill, hiding behind a tree. 

Louis and Ryan had just finished their business. They could have gone to sleep if not for Ryan’s stomach growling in hunger. They disembark the vehicle to scavenge some leftover barbecues when they noticed that all of them, minus Luke and Ashton, were huddled together behind a tree. Lauren called them in, and they all watched silently to the events unfolding beside them. 

Ashton and Luke were too far-off from them, but they couldn’t get any closer unless they wanted the two numb-chucks to know that they were watching. The two were talking closely together, bantering, laughing. They were… 

“They’re professing their love,” Calum whispered. Ladies and gentlemen, he finally won the coveted title of Captain Obvious. 

“About time,” Michael said. “Do you know when we were doing a paper about industrialism, they went—” 

“Hush!” Normani hissed when Luke leaned in too close to Ashton. They all held their breath. Is he going to kiss him? Is he? Aww… but he only brushed a hair from his face. Lame-o. 

“Jesus, they’ve been there for forever!” Lauren groaned but not too loudly. “I’ll give them five more minutes and if nothing happened still, I’ll just watch _Friends_.” 

“Owp, there it is. There it is!” Calum cackled. 

It was Ashton who pulled Luke down for a makeout session. Maybe he got tired of beating around the bush, too. 

“FINALLY! HALLELUJAH! MY BEST MATE’S ARE FUCKING NOW!” they all cheered. 

“WHA—MOTHERFUCKERS! ARE YOU THERE THE WHOLE TIME?!!!” Luke and Ashton bellowed. 

“Up your assess, homos!” Calum cackled again. 

“You’re the homo! You jerk off to Billie Joe!” Ashton answered. They were marching towards them now. The girls were laughing. 

“Fuck you! Billie Joe Armstrong is a god that deserves to be jerked-off at by every gender, plant and animal, you numb fucks!” Calum defended his champion. 

“Get off our backs, freaks!” Luke said. “You’re the peeping-toms here!” 

“Don’t even know if it’s worth the wait,” Lauren joined in. Dinah hushed her up. She wanted to hear how these boys insult each other. 

“Louis and Ryan were fucking in Luke’s bed!” Ashton triumphantly said. “We saw them! Anal sex! They didn’t stop!” 

The girls ooohhheed. 

“What’s your point?” Ryan asked in a challenging tone. “Want me to do it to you, too?” 

“I’ll watch,” Louis said, unblinking. “It’ll be as lame as your Rome and Juliet act right there, but welp, one could never depend on America for good pornography.” 

“Fucking rude!” Michael said. “You kissed your mother with that mouth?” 

“How is she anyway that she has a sorry excuse of a son?” Ashton said. They were huddled by them now. 

“Don’t know,” Louis answered Ashton coolly. “I haven’t checked up on her since last night. I was too busy watching your mum fuck my dog to bother calling me mum.” 

“You are precious to him, Lou,” Ryan said in an acute tone. “She told me so after I climaxed.” 

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!” A voice from inside a nearby RV echoed. “WE’RE TRYING TO SLEEP! GOD! AND TELL THAT BRIT AMERICANS HAVE IT BETTER IN BED!” 

“I shouldn’t be hearing this right now. I shouldn’t be hearing _all_ these right now,” Ally murmured repeatedly, ears violated. 

Normani had far more important things on her mind. “So, Luke and Ashton, when did you finally decide to man up and confess?” 

The boys in question didn’t answer, embarrassment creeping in. They were looking anywhere but at them. However, Louis caught Luke glanced at them pointedly before shying away. 

Louis let out a shocked laugh. He said softly so only Ryan would hear, “How do you know this is all it would come too?” 

A smile was playing on Ryan’s lips. “They were too obvious. They’re envious of us. All they need is a little push to act on that. They were already there.” 

Louis was shaking his head. He looked before him where Calum and Michael were punching an answer out of Luke and Ashton and the girls were mingling over. “It’s still unbelievable, if you ask me.” 

“Yeah… well… that’s not important. What’s important is that it happened, how ludicrous the process and prospects might have been.” Louis watched him as he looked upwards to the night sky. They watched the stars. 

“Will they run away too?” Louis mused. 

“Maybe.” It took a while before Ryan spoke again.“God bless America.” 

END OF CHAPTER SIX


	7. Protests

_“So little time_   
_Try to understand that I'm_   
_Trying to make a move just to stay in the game_   
_I try to stay awake and remember my name_   
_But everybody's changing_   
_And I don't feel the same.”_

\--Keane, _“Everybody’s Changing”_

For four days they journeyed from Orlando, Florida to Knoxville, Tennessee, alternating from getting a lift from strangers – both eccentric and kind –, to walking then to asking for change in bus stops. All the nights of those four days, they had no roofs above their heads. They slept in parks and waiting sheds. One day, they were caught by rain that didn’t stop for a whole night. Food was scarce, too. So it should be no wonder that Louis’ health gave away. He’d gotten a mild fever and, despite his protest, Ryan had to carry him in his back as he trudged the afternoon streets of Knoxville to the house of James Scott. 

Ryan went to the porch and rang the bell to the three-story house. A plump woman presented herself out. She had the look of boredom in her face. She surveyed the dirty appearance of Ryan and the seemingly-asleep boy in his back with distrust. “Can I help you?” 

“Yes. We uh… we’re looking for James Scott? A friend said he lives here?” 

The woman scoffed. “He lives upstairs.” Without another word, she slammed the door to Ryan’s face. How rude. 

Mr. Lovato should’ve told them that James Scott lives in an apartment house. Cursing under his breath, he secured his hold of Louis and walked around the house. He found the stairs leading to the second floor then knock on the door. 

This time a ragged man answered. He was tan with thinning blonde hair. He was in his mid to late 40’s, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and dirty slippers. “Who are you?” he drawled, almost. 

“Sir, my name’s Ryan. This is Louis. Mr. Lovato gave us your address. He said you’ll be expecting us this summer?” 

James had a thoughtful expression on his face. “You are them, huh? Then why did he say that I should be expecting for boys named George and Bill?” 

Oh, shit. That was supposed to be a joke. He wanted to laugh and call it but panic started worming in to his being. There’s a sick boy on his back that needed attention quickly and he too badly wanted some rest. “I am George, sir. This is Bill. My whole name’s George Ryan Ross III and he’s Louis William Tomlinson. We only go by Ryan and Louis but we are them!” 

“Then why did you introduce yourselves as George and Bill if you go by Ryan and Louis?” Man, this man was distrustful. What’s up with the people in this street? 

The “great” artisan couldn’t answer. Louis began coughing in his half-sleep half-awake state. 

James peeked at Louis. “Is he sick?” 

“Yes.” 

“Since when?” 

“This morning.” 

“You didn’t bring him to a hospital?” 

“He didn’t tell me that he’s got a fever. I only found out when we’re already here. I thought you might help us.” 

James heaved a sigh. “Very well.” He opened the door wide to let the boy in. “Lay him on the couch. Make him some soup. I’m about to head out soon.” 

2 

Louis woke up to the snores of a man beside him, then corrected himself when he saw that the man snoring was on the floor beside the sofa he was sleeping on. Ryan. He vaguely remembered in his drugged state that Ryan had carried him on his back, and this small room with the kitchen on the left side, the bathroom and the bedroom on the left, and crazy knick-knacks in between (stacks and stacks of books and albums, piles and piles of clothes both dirty and clean, rows and rows of wooden furniture), must be James Scott’s place. 

The place was brightly lit. Louis looked out the window and confirmed his guess that it was night, presumably midnight. Again corrected when he spotted the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway that it was two in the morning. He didn’t even hear it bong at twelve. 

Carefully, he removed the thin blanket covering him and dropped his feet to the ground. No headaches now, just the empty and weak feeling of recovering from sickness. He noticed the new pair of clothes he was wearing. He nudged Ryan’s shoulder with a foot and he laughed when the man’s eyes immediately shut wide open and sat up. 

“Are you alright? Jesus Christ, how do you feel? How do you feel?” He felt Louis’ forehead with the back of his right hand and began massaging Louis’ knee with his left. Louis closed his eyes to the touch. “Lou?” 

“Hunky-dory.” 

“What?” 

“I’m all fine, now. Thank you for taking care of me.” 

Ryan finally relaxed. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Only ten hours, give or take. Appalling, I know.” He stood up from the floor and headed to the kitchen. “Do you want some more soup? I’m a culinary genius with that.” 

Louis said yes. “And where is our host?” 

“In some AA meeting downtown. He said this is his first anniversary with them,” he answered from the kitchen. After a while he came back with his promised tray of soup and some biscuits. He carefully set it down on the table beside the couch and he took a spot close to Louis’ thigh. 

Louis didn’t even try complaining when Ryan started spoonfeeding him. He gratefully accepted every spoonful of soup he was fed. 

“Don’t be surprise if James calls you Bill later on, by the way. It’s the name he’s gotten from Lovato-san.” 

Louis nibbled at the tidbits of meat suspended in the soup. “Yeah, I’ve forgotten about that nickname.” 

“Nearly got us into trouble, too. James wouldn’t let me in in the beginning ‘cause I’ve introduced ourselves as Ryan and Louis.” 

“You tosh. Where did you even come up with that George and Bill thing in the first place?” 

Ryan became thoughtful. He had a solemn expression on his face that Louis didn’t know if it was pretend or not. “I had a traumatic experience last summer involving hitchhiking. The guy who gave me a lift… he harassed me in Facebook for about a month because I gave him my real name. It only stopped when I got fucking Dallon Weekes to pretend to be my boyfriend to tell that guy off. The guy, he kept sending dick pics, you know. I wouldn’t mind except it’s a bad dick.” 

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Are you messing me about?” 

“Do I look like I’m messing with you?” he answered with a scoff. Ryan deposited the bowl of soup, now empty of contents, back to the tray. “The point is, we’ll stay here as George and Bill. Kind of like a double life.” 

Louis nodded thoughtfully. “When are we going to be in the move again? Louisiana, right?” 

There was a faraway look in Ryan’s eyes. He avoided Louis’ curious gaze. “Actually… can we skip Louisiana and head on straight to Denver? We’re behind schedule and… I have to meet someone there.” 

“Oh. Who?” Louis asked playfully. “Who are you meeting with?” 

“Just… no one special. Please?” 

If at that moment a tint of worry was beginning to invade Louis’ mind, he didn’t know about it. “Well if it would take you to beg then the meeting must be real special to you. Fine. Denver it will be.” 

Ryan smiled in relief. Too much relief for Louis’ liking, as if his consent cost a small fortune. “Thanks.” Quickly, he dived in for a quick kiss to Louis’ lips. “I’m glad you’re alright now, by the way.” He ran back to the kitchen before Louis could utter any reaction. 

3 

The man was odd for certain. Louis didn’t mean it in an offensive way just because he went religiously to AA meetings which Louis thought (don’t take it against him; it’s not his fault that he agreed with the point made by _South Park_ ) was loads of rubbish (they are just racking disciprine, disciprine come from within; God, he loves that show). No, James Scott was odd in the way that he was quiet most of the times, brute when he was not, and he knew himself that he was odd. He reminded Louis of Bruce Willis in _The Sixth Sense_ ; quiet, suave, and troubled. He was the sight of acerbity, truth be told. It was as if he had never been truly happy in his life. It showed without even a trace of veneer to cover it from strangers and friends. 

Bruce Willis of _The Sixth Sense_ James has indeed become when they found out that the man was having troubles with his wife. The wife moved back to her hometown in New Mexico. They were going through a divorce because of James’ alcoholism (now Louis felt sorry for him for comparing him to Randy Marsh and hoped James will come to). 

But the two days they spent with James Scott, Louis realized that it couldn’t just be the alcoholism. And when they dug in deeper – accidentally – they could only theorize. Truth was, James was hearing voices in his head, and the loudest of those voices was his dad’s. 

James was a man troubled by the past, a past that was not even his in the first place. 

The morning of Louis’ recovery, James gave them a paying job of tidying his place while he was away to his AA meetings. The whole flat was a wreck. His wife, Victoria, will come in two days and they would talk their relationship through. Apparently, if the wife sees that James is sobering up, she will drop the divorce case and she will move back. Possibly they could put to action their youthful plans of starting a family. 

Louis was cleaning James’ room when he discovered the mementos in James’ wardrobe. Medals were hung in hooks beside the man’s belts. Black and white pictures of a man who looks so much like James he could only be his father. The man was in a suit, then in a soldier’s attire, then with a gun, then with a troop, then lying in a hospital bed with a medal pinned to his gown, then with a family, then to a reunion party. Delta Company. Folders and folders of newspaper clippings from the 1960’s to 80’s. The keyword to all those clippings is Vietnam. 

Louis called Ryan in. Ryan said they weren’t supposed to find these stuffs; they were too personal. They wouldn’t understand. They were a generation too far from the time when every boy was endangered to be drafted and spend his youth preparing to die and be killed in a foreign land. 

The Brit was about to retort that Ryan’s argument should apply to James as well – the man in the picture was only his father. Then he remembered the time when Pete Wentz was watching all these documentaries and Louis sat with him after finishing a paper. One of those documentaries was about the results of Vietnam War. It said that a large fraction of the veterans greatly suffered from PTSD. There was a veteran featured in the documentary, Louis remembered, who abused his only son after returning from Nam. Three more years and he conducted a mass shooting in a grocery store. “That was dope ass shit,” Pete had said back then and continued to write down the name of the grocery store to his destination list. 

Gerard had come in to the room and scowled at Pete and Louis for watching such an ‘American-leaning docu about Vietnam War’. To which Pete answered, “Dude, we’re just watching the birth of hippies.” Louis had watched in anxiety as Gerard and Pete engaged in a debate, as Patrick came into the room and took Gerard’s side, and Frank took Pete’s. It was so alien to watch all of them dispute with such ardor when Louis unfairly judged them in the beginning that all they know and care about is music. Patrick was unhappily bringing up Agent Orange and Pete was _happily_ pulling out a book on history. Gerard talked about Eisenhower and Nixon and Frank discussed about Uncle Ho. The debate was a mess; Louis didn’t even know what they were fighting for. Like that war decades ago. 

The war lost was long over, but the effect will still linger up to the next generation. 

4 

James mentioned the voices in his head the first time when they were doing the dishes and Louis stupidly mentioned about the time his uncle Freddie (Patrick’s father) got caught between Tet Offensive when he was serving as a medic in Phu Bai. 

“He said there were explosions everywhere,” James muttered out loud. But he was not talking to either of the youth in his room. His mind was already wandering; wandered off to a time and place he was not part off. “Over time the explosions and the cries of his brothers became as natural as the sounds of crickets and the birds.” 

Ryan and Louis exchanged an uncomfortable look. 

“He described them so _vividly_. He likes retelling me all those experiences again and again, every night before I go to sleep.” 

James had stopped washing the plates, only looked at the flowing water from the faucet. “He said _she_ wants me to go there, too. Said _she_ ’s going to make me a man.” She, being Vietnam. 

“You… hear voices?” Louis risked to ask. 

The older man gave him a bitter smile. “Half and half. I don’t see anybody when he’s talking… but I know it was my Dad.” He sighed. “You must think I’m crazy… it’s the alcohol I blame.” 

After that James fell into silence. The two younger boys were too afraid to break it, so they just continued with their work. Louis badly wanted to ask: what happened to you? to your Dad? Between the two of you? Why are you so sad? But that was overstepping boundaries. Just because you are intrigued by someone does not mean you always ask. Sometimes you must let it go, especially if you are not going to stay in their life for long. Soon it was dinnertime, and James returned to being himself again, barking orders and threatening that if they didn’t do a good job, he would tell Billy Ray Cyrus and Mr. Lovato what lying assholes they are. (“ _It’s just names!_ ” Ryan protested. “ _It still makes a difference_ ,” James shouted back.) 

It was also during dinner (pizza and deep-fried chicken wings; their way of celebration since Ryan and Louis would depart the next day) that James gave them the astonishing news about Demi. 

“The poor girl was admitted to a hospital. Can you believe it? Her parents said she always goes for a healthy diet but… she developed bulimia.” 

It was so bizarre how events turned out. So like a paradox. You should only hear glaring changes in a person after a long time, not in a space of weeks. That was the only way to make it acceptable. It was just a month ago when they first met her and now in Tennessee they had to learn that she was getting help for some condition they never even expected she had. Louis didn’t even know her that well, only met her in the beginnings of summer and so much had already happened after that, and yet for some reason, he cared. It was unfair. 

“That’s… messed up,” was all he could manage to say. He looked over at Ryan and found him with a solemn expression. Does he experience this kind of thing every summer? 

“She’ll be fine,” James said. “She’s a strong girl.” 

5 

Louis dreamed he was running in the woods. He was watching himself from above; saw himself in a combat gear clutching the rifle in his hands for dear life. He was making turns and he was running and he was panting and he was so tired, Louis could only watched. He tried to look behind what Dream Louis was running from and he was aghast to see that they are Viet Cong. They were closing in. 

_Where are my troops? My brothers?_

The amazing thing was, however close the VC were, they never reach Louis. There was a good forty-meter gap between them. He heard them shouting in Vietnamese but in Louis’ dream state they were perfectly translated to English. _Get him! Get the American!_ So Louis urged Dream Louis to run faster until that gap widen and they both wake up from that nightmare. 

_We can do it! Run! Run! Then we can go home!_

They reached a clearing and Louis realized for the first time how the sky was so dark, threatening rain. 

_No time for that! Run!_

He saw Ryan Ross sitting under a tree, as if he’s too tired. He didn’t look wounded though. He was wearing that same expression Louis saw in him at dinner. He directed Dream Louis to run to him. 

_What are you doing, private? They are closing in! Get a move on._

Ryan just gave him an uninterested glance before he ignored him. He was holding a crumpled letter ( _a letter from home!_ ) on one hand and his rifle on the other. 

_Come on, you prat!_

“What for?” Ryan asked. To Louis’ horror his voice sounded like James. “She is leaving me,” he continued. He waved the letter in the air for Louis to read. 

_DIVORCE PAPERS. BRENDON URIE AND HARRY STYLES HAVE MOVED ON AND THEY ARE NOT WAITING FOR YOU AT HOME! GET FUCKED. SIGNED, YOUR LOVING GOVERNMENT. P.S., URBANISM COULD’VE EDUCATED THEM. COLONIALISM COULD’VE SAVED THEM._

_No! That’s not true!_ Louis didn’t know if he was convincing himself or Ryan. On what part of the letter he was arguing against, he also didn’t know. Maybe all of it. _Never mind. Never mind that for now, private. We have to get out of here._

Suddenly he heard a crinkling noise. He looked to the right and he saw a television. In it a video was playing. Thousands and thousands of student protesters. He recognized the faces of Gerard and Patrick holding placards and shouting along with the demo group. 

“WHAT ARE WE DOING IN NAM?” “NIXON IS A MURDERER!” “BRING THEM HOME NOW!” “MORE WARS DOES NOT EQUATE PEACE!” “STOP THE DRAFT!” “LOUIS, YOUR MOTHER CALLED. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RUNNING AWAY WITH A STRANGER?” 

_Yes, bring us home. Please. Please. Please._ Louis moaned in his sleep. _I’m only a student. I have dreams. I don’t want to be a lost cause. I’m just a kid; why am I holding a gun?_

The television switched channels, and Louis saw in fascination Pete in a suit, sitting in a comfortable chair while Frank interviewed him behind a podium. 

_“Indeed, I do believe that if there’s one thing we have to blame Vietnam for, it’s the birth of hippies,”_ Pete was saying very joyfully. Laughter erupted from the talk show’s audience. 

_“And what do you say to the silent majority?”_ Frank asked him. 

_“I appeal to them to make a stand. When a country falls into communism, neighboring countries would follow. That’s what we call the domino theory, assholes. Look it up. And, bah, didn’t you amateurs learn in high school that communism is bad? Talk about peace whenever and however you want but that shit ain’t gonna help us stop communism. Talking does not do anything! Acting does! Listen here, Gee and Trick. You too, Lou: We need to be in Vietnam!”_

_“How about you, sir? What do you say?”_ Frank asked his other guest. The camera panned to the right and revealed James Scott’s father. He was in his combat uniform and was black and white as in the pictures compared to Frank and Pete who were grainy but otherwise colored. 

_“She… will make you a man. James, when you’re here, you will begin to learn the important lessons in the universe. That is, killing is as natural as the sound of crickets in the nighttime. So is losing your legs and arms and genitals in combat. So is longing for a woman. No amount of alcohol can bury that truth, son. James, can you hear me? Come join your father, James. Join me.”_

_“Dad…”_

James appeared out of the cosmic woods behind Louis. He looked drunk. He kept swaying back and forth as he made his way to the television. He left Demi lying helplessly on a gurney from whence he came. Louis tried to stop him but Ryan gripped his wrist. _“Nothing we can do about it, Lou.”_ It was his normal voice now. 

Louis was crying. _“But he’ll meet his wife. They’ll get back together. What are those AA meetings for?”_

Ryan only shook his head gravely. 

Louis turned his attention back to the television. It now showed James and his father sitting side by side behind a trench while exchanging shots with the enemies beyond. In the clearing, he could hear the return of the VC. _Get them! Get the Americans! Get the fags!_

_Ryan!_

Ryan was smiling as he held his hand tightly. He was dressed in his normal shirt and jeans. _What are you worried for, my love? We’ll end this together. We’re alone together._

They faced the incoming battalion of enemies. It started to rain. 

6 

The next night, they walked James to the restaurant where he would meet his wife again. Ryan and Louis themselves had their backpacks; they were heading straight to the train station after a quick goodbye. 

In front of the restaurant, James turned to them. “Sorry I didn’t get to tour you here in Tennessee, or even fucking Knoxville. I know that’s why Lovato wanted you to come here. But I got very busy.” 

Louis shrugged it off while Ryan answered. “It’s no big deal. We have something important to do in Denver too. We also must be going.” 

“Well,” James shifted his weight awkwardly. “Maybe you can come back next summer, or whenever you’re free. My house is open.” 

Louis chortled. “We already got so much invitation for the next summer, but yeah, we’ll try.” 

“Thanks, Bill.” 

“And… we’ll also get an update on Demi,” Louis reassured him. 

“Yeah. Okay. See you whenever, George, Bill.” 

“Good luck,” Louis said. But James already entered the door of the restaurant. He wasn’t sure if he ever heard him. Wordlessly, Ryan and Louis reached for each other’s hand and trudged on with their journey. 

That was the last time he ever saw or heard from James ever again. Ten years from now, on a Sunday of May, when Louis and Harry were preparing to attend the mass, Louis received a call from Demi. She reported him of James’ grim demise. “You know James Scott, right? You remembered him, right?” Demi was hysterical. “He was waiting for you every summer!” Just like that Louis remembered Bill and George and James and the weird dream and Vietnam. He could’ve known him better before the Grim Reaper swung his scythe. 

After years and years of his father’s bedtime stories, James finally succumbed to the ‘universal truth’. His wife found him dead inside their bathroom, wearing his father’s uniform and dog tags, the back of his head missing and brain blown off from the bullet of a shotgun. 

No, it wasn’t his father that finally got him. It was Vietnam. 

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN


	8. Probabilities

_“Won't you quit your crying? I can't sleep_   
_One minute I'm a little sweetheart_   
_And next minute you are an absolute creep_   
_We've got obsessions_   
_I want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me when I am holding you_   
_We've got obsessions_   
_All you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you.”_

\--Marina and the Diamonds, _“Obsessions”_

Still having no idea what they were doing so early in Denver, Louis just let Ryan lead him to wherever place the older man needed to go to. The littlest of confusion set in when they were inside a grand summer hotel on the highlands, checking in for a two nights. Ryan saved all his money for this? He was thinking about money, and it must have been too obvious to Ryan when he looked over after they were handed a keycard to a fucking _suite_. Louis experienced sleeping in streets, practiced himself to get use to that, and now Ross was offering him a lavished lair? 

“Relax, will you, Lou? We won’t go broke. The suite was already paid for even before summer began,” he said and patted him on the cheeks. 

What? “Y-you planned this..? You reserved a room for what...? What is happening?!” 

Then again, Ryan merely blew him a kiss and he led the way to the elevator then to a room. Room 508. Nope, Louis had still no idea what was going on. He must press for answers. 

“Who are you meeting, really?” he asked, almost snapped. 

Ryan turned to him from overlooking the view below and outside the big windows. He looked serious enough but there was a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Who are _we_ meeting, do you mean?” 

“What? Just cut the crap, Ryan. You’re making me nervous.” 

Under Louis’ gaze, Ryan paced around the room, still wearing that not-innocent smile. 

“Is it your mother? Are you introducing me to her?” 

Ryan, of course, did not expect that. He laughed. “What? Where are you getting your ideas? No.” He settled on the couch near the window. “No. We’re going to meet the love of my life, Brendon Urie, and his lovely fiancée, Sarah.” 

As if that could unslake Louis. He just felt his stomach drop. Brendon Urie. The one who had a thing with Ryan in the past which then sparked rumors inside their little community. Patrick and Pete knew about it. The lads who make up 5 Seconds of Summer also knew. Then, whatever they were having was done for when Brendon proposed to Sarah that night in front of everyone and Ryan. And Ryan arranged to meet him this summer. Lovely. What was he said when Louis asked him when they were in Knoxville? He said he would be meeting no one special. Very lovely. And now Louis would get acquainted with the man, too. Very lovely, indeed. 

Christ, what the hell was happening? Why was everything suddenly confusing? And why did he feel so threatened by this? 

“I thought you’re over him now?” Louis blurted out. 

The older man became thoughtful. “I am. I am, Lou. But there’s nothing wrong with exchanging little pleasantries before we move on, right? Closure. You had one with Harry.” 

He couldn’t think. “I need to breathe,” he said and left the room before he could hear what Ryan had to say. 

Shit. _Shit_. Triple shit. Travesty. Catastrophe. He walked fast along the corridor with no coherent thought. Only which… 

The end of summer. _It’s now the end of summer. But why should it affect me? We really have nothing going on, really… How dare he bring Harry up? Fucking how lame does he want his closure with Brendon to be? And look, he even had a schedule for that fucking closure._

All this time. All this time! The bastard was planning to go to Colorado? Why did it feel like he had been cheated? 

Louis was out in a massive balcony. There was no one around, thank God. Lest he would knock someone out. He tried taking a deep breath. Nope, it was not working. No, he was not going to scream his ass off because one, that was cliché and stupid and two, he could attract unwanted attention from anyone in vicinity. No one wanted to see a filthy young man in a sweaty hoodie and pants screaming maniacally in the balcony of a posh hotel. He’d be thrown out. He resolved to repeatedly hit the railings with his knuckles. It hurt but it sufficed to ease the anger. 

After a while, he stopped. Not because he was calmed down but because his knuckles already hurt like hell. He’d continue this later on. 

Below him, he could see multitude of vacation tourists in their bikinis and swimsuits, lying around the swimming pool. Okay. Deep breath. Maybe he should just enjoy their stay here. They won’t stay there for long. Ryan promised he would take him to his pad in Nevada, and also take him to visit Patrick and Gerard in California. Louis got to keep Ryan still until the end of summer. And, oh! The bastard said he wanted to keep Louis too for the next summers, too, didn’t he? Right. What was so Louis so afraid about? 

He heard footsteps approaching, closing to him, but he didn’t turn around. Ryan was suddenly behind him, arms encircling around his waist, and his head on his shoulder. “Have you taken your fresh air now?” the affectionate fiend asked. 

Louis only hummed in response. 

“Look. I don’t get why you are panicking. It’s only Brendon, for fuck’s sake. I promise I won’t cause a scandal when I see him, and we’ll leave after tomorrow night.” 

Therefore confirming Louis’ hopes. 

“Is… is this a planned thing for Brendon as well?” Louis asked carefully. “Are the two of you planning to… I mean, how did you know Brendon and Sarah will be here?” 

“They told me.” 

“…” 

“They know I get away every summer. They invited me to come to Denver, told me what date they’d be here. For their stupid first-summer-as-an-engaged-couple, whatever that means.” 

“You said our suite was booked way before summer began.” 

“Not that _way_ before… I got Jon to book it and pay it. He won the lottery, remember?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because it’s not that important.” 

Obvious lie. “What are you going to introduce me to Brendon as then? You’re not going to tell him I’m your boyfriend, right? For that shit—” 

Ryan cut him with a laugh. “I didn’t peg you as someone who watches too many romantic comedies, Lou. You surprised me.” 

He didn’t reply. 

Ryan straightened up. “Now can we go back to our room? Let’s clean ourselves with high-class waters and grisly expensive soaps. Our lovely couple won’t be here until tomorrow. We could have a rest.” 

The issue was dismissed, not to be belabored until the next time Louis met Brendon face to face. And he couldn’t do anything about it. It was Ryan who decides things for them this whole time. 

2 

In the late afternoon, Louis stumbled upon Niall and Liam. 

He was in the hotel lobby, just finished using the payphone to have an overseas call with his mum. He heard someone calling him. They were shouting for his name. He turned around and a bleached-blonde Irish boy was wounding his arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks repeatedly. Liam was walking casually towards them with a queasy smile. 

“Niall?!” 

“Tommo!” he laughed, still not letting go. 

“Liam?” 

“Louis.” He patted Niall’s back and Niall stepped back from the Brit. 

Louis couldn’t find his words. 

Niall tilted his head to a side. “But I’ve heard you’re in New York?” 

“Oh… yeah… And I heard you’re in Colorado. Shit. How could I forget that? Of course, you’ll be here. Of all places…” 

“Is something wrong?” Liam asked. 

“Nothing. Uh… how long have you’ve been here?” 

Niall became serious. “Just today. We’ll leave day after tomorrow, back to the Paynes in Boulder. You?” 

Louis groaned. “Of course you’ll check out same day as us, too.” 

“Why aren’t you glad?” Niall asked. 

“‘Us’? Who are you with?” Liam asked. “The guy Zayn and the rest reported you were cleaving to in New York? Ryan Ross, is it? Frank said he knows him, kinda.” 

Louis slowly nodded. And that reminded him… he turned to Niall. “Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me or something? All your friends are. You even sent me that text.” 

( _Jesus Fucking Christ, Lou. You had one job! You didn’t even have to swallow your pride! Zayn and the gang did all the work for you!_ ) 

Niall, in his surprise, giggled. “Yeah. But you have a very convincing Devil’s Advocate here.” He leaned against Liam’s sides. 

Liam. Oh, right. Frank’s stepbrother. Frank Iero. God bless you, Frank. 

“How about your friendship with Harry?” Louis asked shyly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Niall waved it off. “I’m not talking to him or them either. Since after I won Liam’s heart against Zayn, things had been awkward for the rest of us, anyway.” 

“You make it sound too dramatic, Ni,” Liam commented, wearing an amused smile. 

“What part?” 

“You winning my heart.” 

Niall looked up to his boyfriend. “But I did.” 

It hurt Louis’ eyes. “Since when did this happen?” he asked. 

“Two weeks ago,” Liam answered. “I texted you about this, Lou. You’ve been out of touch.” 

“But my phone got stolen. Never mind. I’m happy for you.” 

“We’re happy for you and your new boy, too,” Niall said. “So I guess, everyone of us should be happy for each other. Me and Li. You and mystery boy. Taylor and Ed. Harry and Kendall.” 

What? “Again, what?” 

“What? Oh, right. Your phone was stolen. Harry’s got himself a fiancée. A childhood friend or something. Kendall Jenner.” 

3 

“And you know what else? A congregation of Styles’ and Jenners will arrive here today and tomorrow for the announcement of their engagement. Only these things can happen to me. _A lot_ of things striking all at once.” His molars hurt from the grinding of his teeth just to relieve his grueling anger. 

“It’s ridiculous, all right,” Ryan agreed tentatively. 

They were lying in bed together; Ryan’s head at the foot while Louis’ by the headboards. The time was seven in the evening. According to Niall, the two aforementioned families would come by eight. To complete the puzzle, Niall and Liam were only in the hotel for they were invited to the engagement party. Zayn and his New York cohorts would come, too. All in all, Louis didn’t have to focus all his worries in meeting Brendon. He had to worry about his own college acquaintances as well. Worse; he’s going to see his fiancée for the first time. _Was she the beard Harry brought to their family gathering?_ Harry had moved on and here was Louis, wallowing in self-pity. At least, he didn’t get to see Harry proposed to Kendall live. That would’ve been the killer. Fuck. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the tub secured between Ryan’s knees and chomped grudgingly. 

“Why do these things keep happening to us, Ryan?” 

He patted Louis’ thigh. “Life.” 

Silence reigned. During which the thought kept sinking and sinking in. _Harry’s getting married and here I was. Harry’s getting married and here I was._

_Six out of ten chances that both our exes have now fiancées._

There was an interesting happening though, and it was troubling Louis a little bit. It was the fact that he was not _crying_ over it. There was nothing he was feeling except for a recalcitrant hate. 

“D’ you wanna just stay here all night, then?” Ryan asked. 

“Yep.” 

“This hotel’s fucking huge, Louis. There’s only six out of ten chances you’ll encounter the people you are hiding from.” 

“Six out of ten and still I met Niall and Liam. And I wasn’t even trying to hide from them.” _Six out of ten chances that Brendon and Sarah would choose this hotel, too._

“Why are you making this into such a big deal? I thought you’re over Harry? Didn’t you say you hate him?” 

Did he now? New York memories and real feelings jostled through his brain. “I guess I did but… this would be the first time I meet up with him as a person I hate.” Smooth. 

“You’re not going to meet up with him. Not if I could help it.” 

What was that supposed to mean? 

There was a knock on their door. Both Ryan and Louis looked up suspiciously. They didn’t ring for room service; who could their visitor be? At Louis’ nudge, Ryan got up and answered the door. He couldn’t see the newcomers from his place but when Louis heard the door creaked open and the visitor opened their mouth, he knew. 

“We’re here for Tommo!” 

Niall. 

Louis left the bed and joined Ryan in the foyer. 

“Tommo!” Niall cried and flung himself into Louis’ arms. Liam was with him again with an armful of potato chips and soda cans. The two must have mistaken this grandiose hotel for a college dormitory. 

“Nialler, the next time you throw yourself to Louis like that, I’ll consider being jealous,” Liam chided then proceeded to invite himself inside the room and sit on the carpet. Niall blew his boyfriend a kiss but stayed in Louis’ arms. Meanwhile, Ryan was glaring at Louis, mentally asking, _Alright, who are these assholes?_

Louis cleared his throat. “Umm… Niall, Liam, this is Ryan, my summer buddy. Ryan, these are Niall and Liam, my friends.” 

“Hiya,” Niall greeted pleasantly. Liam raised a soda can as if in a toast. Ryan nodded at both of them in acknowledgement. 

“Didn’t know you have other friends besides the guys from Chemical Fall Out, Lou,” Ryan said coolly. Louis flipped a finger at him before he turned to Niall and asked him why they were not preparing for the dinner with Styles’ and Jenners. 

“They are still on their way. And on second thought,” Niall said. “We’d rather spend the night with you. I know you don’t want to see them and we get to celebrate their engagement party tomorrow night, anyway. Won’t we, Li? And still, tomorrow the hotel will have a 1920’s theme party. I’d rather go there as well than be in the company of merging rich families.” 

They all gathered down on the floor, sharing the blessing Liam brought, while watching maw reruns of old movies in the cabled TV. 

“What’s the most you ever lost in a coin toss?” Anton asked the storekeeper after carefully laying down the now-empty wrapper of his snack on the front table. 

“Sir?” the old storekeeper asked in confusion. He really was a bit deaf. 

“The most you ever lost on a coin toss?” Anton repeated patiently. 

“I don’t know. I couldn’t say.” 

Old stupid man. He couldn’t help him now. Anton flipped a coin and put it on the table, covering the result with the tips of his big hands. “Call it,” he said with a sigh. 

“Call it?” 

“Yes.” 

“For what?” 

“Just call it.” 

The old storekeeper was anxious now, afraid. “Well, we need to know what we’re calling it for here,” he put in helplessly. 

As expected, Anton quickly dismissed his proposition. “You need to call it. I can’t call it for you. Or it wouldn’t be fair.” 

“I didn’t put nothing up,” the old man protested with bated breath. 

“Yes, you did. You’ve been putting it up your whole life. You just didn’t know it,” the scary man explained. And that was deep-ass shit, wasn’t it? So much like life. “You know what date is on the coin?” 

The old man took quick glances to the coin covered by his customer’s hand, around him, then back to _him_. “No.” Is that important? 

“Nineteen-fifty-eight. It’s been traveling 22 years to get here,” Anton explained again, staring intensely to the old man’s face. “And now it’s here. And it’s either heads or tails. You have to say. Call it.” 

“Well, look, I need to know what I stand to win.” Life. _My_ life, of course. This man is clearly not right in the head and heart. His whole face turned damask, not with heat but with tension. 

“Everything.” 

A pause. “How’s that?” 

“You stand to win everything. Call it,” he demanded. 

Give up. There’s nowhere else to go. Might as well. “All right. Heads, then.” 

Anton took his hand off. Heads. “Well done,” he said with an unnerving smile. For him maybe it was genuine, but it was bloodcurdling. Nonetheless, the four college boys let out a big sigh of relief. 

The old man took the coin. 

“Don’t put it in your pocket.” “Sir?” 

“Don’t put it in your pocket. It’s your lucky quarter.” 

The old man looked at the coin again, then at Anton. “Where do you want me to put it?” 

“Anywhere not in your pocket. Or it’ll get mixed with the others and become just a coin.” He stared at him pointedly. “Which it is.” He left the store. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m too young for heart attacks. Can’t we select a movie which is not this intense?” 

Niall laughed. “Lou, tell your boyfriend to stop whining. This is good movie right here.” 

“Ryan, stop your whining. This is a good movie. If I could get pass those cowboy slangs and double negatives, this would’ve been great.” 

The three other boys stared at him. “‘Cowboy slangs’?” Ryan repeated. 

Louis grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked the back of Ryan’s head with it. 

4 

At ten in the evening, Niall and Liam were still in their room. They were all lying crumpled in bed, high from nothing and just staring into space. Every now and then, Niall’s phone beeped, eddying the doting quiet. Ryan glowered at him from over Louis’ stomach. 

“It’s Harry,” Niall said. “They said they only just got here.” 

Louis said, “But it’s now ten.” 

“Traffic, maybe.” Niall tossed his phone away. “Fuck, I don’t want to sit with them at dinner. Zayn will make stupid faces again at Liam. That fucker just won’t give up. Then that Kendall’s mother will make equally stupid comments about how she didn’t it coming that I’m into guys. Then Harry’s parents will second that, even though they’ve known about my little crush on Liam since last year. Then—fuck!” 

“Just tell them you had dinner because they were so late,” Louis supplied. 

Niall rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands in frustration. “They will think I’m being rude. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with those people anymore, Louis. Now and in the future.” 

Yeah. Remind him that every time, why don’t you, Niall? 

The Irish lad brushed his nose against Liam’s forehead. “I’m really frustrated, LiLi.” 

Liam gave him a lazy smile. “I know. But why don’t we just ignore Harry’s text all night and tomorrow we’ll tell them that we fell asleep?” 

“Oh, I got a better idea. Why don’t we have sex instead? More sensible reason to stand off those rich bastards,” Niall whispered with a seductive slur in his voice. Louis and Ryan both heard it and they stopped. The fuck. 

Frank’s dear stepbrother hummed in total interest. He cupped the back of Niall’s head and drew him closer to his face. 

“Daddy,” Niall slurred. 

Okay. Ryan and Louis sat up quick and stared at the lovers in disbelief. “We may have to ask you outside our room,” Louis said. “Dude, what’s up with your kinks?” Ryan asked. 

In their horror, Niall and Liam just smiled at them. “We never had a foursome before. Had we, Daddy?” Niall asked his boyfriend in a child-like tone. 

“Well, don’t count yourself lucky tonight,” Ryan said and jumped out of bed. 

“I’m out, too. Seriously, Neil. Your disturbing fetishes are forever ubiquitous. Don’t take that as a compliment.” Louis cursed at them before running after Ryan. 

Niall was laughing. “Tommo! RyRo! Come back! Daddy, let’s come after them!” 

The summer buddies ran out of the suite when they heard that. They slammed their door shut and honestly hoped to God that there was some way they could lock those two damn bastards in without risking the precious suite that Jon generously paid for them. Not contented with slamming the door, they ran along the hallway in the hopes of finding a place to hide from Niall and Liam when the latter two got out of the room. They were laughing as they scurried around. It was all so ridiculous and embarrassingly funny. Ryan grabbed Louis’ wrist and pulled him to him. But they both tripped and Louis was leaned against the wall as a result. Still laughing loudly, the younger boy pulled Ryan closer. The latter buried his head in the crook of Louis’ neck and breathed in. 

“You really have weird friends,” Ryan murmured against the fabric of Louis’ shirt. Louis could hear a _smile_ then felt a kiss. 

Arms tight and around Ryan’s neck, his fingers quickly tangled with Ryan’s soft hair. “We all got them,” he said in response to his accusation. The hold around his waist got tighter then. Louis closed his eyes. “What do we do now, Ry? We got locked out of our room.” 

“Stay here all night,” Ryan grunted. He was still not leaving the safe confinements of Louis’ neck. 

He heard the twin elevators at the end of the hallway made a _ding!_ sound and their previous occupants got out of the cars. But neither of the two boys made an attempt to end their embrace and stop the shuffling of their feet like they were making a deliberately slow and drunk dance. 

“ _Oh_ ,” the new people muttered at the show Ryan and Louis were giving. And their gasps were really disquieting that Louis had to open his eyes and see what their problem was. 

Harry. An unnamed girl holding his hand (the fiancée for sure). Zayn. Gigi. From the first car. 

From the other car were a man and woman Louis recognized as Mr. and Mrs. Styles. Another old woman (the fiancée’s mother). 

Louis hit the bingo that day for strange occurrences that should’ve happened to a normal person only one at a time. _Six out of ten chances._

“Henry?” Ryan asked the striking curly-haired lad in a suit. You must really give it to Ryan. He was the first one to break the mystifying silence that was coupled with unbelieving and/or judgmental stares. 

Louis inordinately snapped at the boy who had now stepped away from him. “It’s Harry, stupid twat!” 

Harry flinched. Kendall gave them both an uninterested look. 

Mrs. Styles turned to his son. “You know him, Harry? I don’t believe you introduced us to _someone like him_.” 

Oh, wow. Louis grimaced at Harry. Set Mrs. Styles’ venomous words aside, another important thing to note was _Harry’s parents didn’t even know that he existed_. Compare that to Louis who let Harry join the Tomlinsons for one Christmas in Doncaster. 

To his surprise, Harry didn’t back out from Louis’ challenging stare. The nerve of that guy. Two can play in that game. They were both recalcitrant, all right. 

“You’re a student from Harry’s university, too?” Mrs. Styles asked him. 

Louis nodded. 

“I just knew him briefly, ma,” Harry said, not taking his eyes off him. “I’ve just acquainted with him for a little while.” 

His mother continued to gaze at him. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis said. “I was just a classmate to some shitty course. French.” 

“And you?” she asked Ryan. 

“Same,” he lied. 

Mr. Styles shuffled. He leaned down to his wife and whispered something. Mrs. Styles nodded. Her husband and Mrs. Jenner continued down the hall to their suites while she interviewed the two boys some more. Louis wanted to get out of there fast. 

“So I take it you’re not here for his engagement party? Harry has not invited you?” 

Louis’ face hurt from pretending to act surprise. “No. Is Harry getting married? Oh, shit. Congratulations, man. I know you had it in you to find the perfect lady.” He reached over and shook Harry’s hand quickly. His skin felt like burning when it touched his ex-boyfriend’s. 

Harry’s frown deepened. His friends were glaring at him. 

“No, ma’am. We’re just here for a summer holiday. I heard the mountains are corporeally good during this hot season,” Louis continued. 

Mrs. Styles was thoughtful. “The way you talk… From Great Britain, I take?” 

“Why, yes. From a little town called Doncaster.” He knew what must be going in the lady’s head so added quickly, “Got a partial scholarship to Harvard.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well, ‘twas nice meeting you, ma’am… Harry. But Ryan and I—” 

“Tommo! Ryro! Found you!” 

From the hallway to their left, Niall came stumbling in. Liam was following closely behind. Shit. The Irish lad threw himself to Louis again. He was laughing to Louis’ face. When he realized that everyone has gone quiet though, he stopped and looked around and widened his eyes upon seeing the people he had every plan to escape from that night. He pushed himself away from Louis and straightened up. 

“Hi, Mrs. Styles. Hi, Harry. Hi, Kendall. Hi, Gigi,” he said mechanically. Zayn snickered when Niall downright ignored him. 

Mrs. Styles wistfully smiled. “Mr. Horan. Mr. Payne. I’m glad that you’re both still up and awake.” She gave them both a hug and kisses on their cheeks. “We’re terribly sorry we are late. I hope you still got the patience to have dinner with us.” 

Niall scratched his head. “Well, as a matter of fact—” 

“Perfect.” The woman cut him off. “Dinner in twenty minutes? Oh, but the busboy seemed to be taking his time. Our luggage is still not here. I need to see into that. See you at the ground floor, yes? Oh, and you…” she looked at Louis and Ryan. “I didn’t catch your names.” 

Why does it matter? 

Tempting to use George and Bill but they wouldn’t get away with that this time. 

“Ryan Ross.” 

“I’m Louis Tomlinson… ma’am.” 

She smiled. “Why don’t both of you join us, too?” Before they (he, Ryan and Harry) could voice their protest and evince their dislike to the idea, she interrupted them. “I won’t take no for an answer. Please. I would really like to know such interesting characters. Twenty minutes, got it?” 

They were forced to wear casual clothes because of that. 

5 

They were already talking the details of the wedding at the dinner table. Louis was forcing every lump of food down his throat with every name of church and wedding coordinators and bridesmaids and groomsmen they uttered. Then the names of attendees of the engagement party the next night was brought up. Louis shuddered at every Styles and Jenners and other rich-sounding family names. It was also a hard pull not looking up at Harry who he could feel was watching his every move. Goddamn prat; as if he wanted dinner at ten thirty in the evening. Most times in Uni, when an hour late as that strikes, he just foregoes dinner and goes straight to bed. 

He was seated beside Mrs. Styles. Ryan was on his right and Liam and Niall beyond. On the other side of the table were Mrs. Jenner, Harry, Kendall, Zayn and Gigi, in that order. Mr. Styles took the seat at the front end; his wife at his right and Mrs. Jenner at his left. 

He felt guilty that he had to bring Ryan into this whole mess. 

Kendall was suddenly feeding Harry with little slices of her steak. Harry was gobbling every bite and smiling at her lovingly, complete with _“You’re so messy when you eat”, “I got you, babe”, *giggle*, *giggle*._ Louis really wanted to puke. 

“Enough of Harry and Kendall for a while,” Mrs. Styles said. “Mr. Tomlinson, tell us about yourself.” 

Louis paused. _Why me?_ He laughed nervously. “I uh… I don’t know what to say. Nothing interesting going on about me, really.” 

Harry smiled, as if in agreement. 

_Fuck you._

“Oh, just little things about you. We’re not demanding,” Mrs. Styles assured him. 

“Umm…” he looked over at Ryan for rescue but the boy ignored him for the sake of Liam who was whispering something to him. He turned back to the woman. “I’m taking Chemical Engineering… I’m also into photography. I… got four sisters. Also this cousin named Patrick who’s also in Harvard. He was the main reason, actually, that me mum was confident into sending me there instead of Oxford. She wanted me to experience the world… not that that would help me in my course. But most of the time, she’s right anyhow. Now I could say that I agree with her.” 

She smiled at his surmising. “Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman,” Mrs. Styles commented. 

Louis smiled. “She is. I mean, all mothers are wonderful. But to a son, his mother is the most brilliant of all.” He was a little distracted when Niall started joining in the whispered conversation between Liam and Ryan. 

“What else, Mr. Tomlinson?” 

“What else?” 

“What else? Are there superficial things...? the music you like? Books? Movies? Any pet peeves? Just young adult stuffs.” 

Louis started to wonder: _where is this going? Is this an audition to be Harry’s friend?_

“I guess I like… Green Day? I read Stephen King because of his stories and John Grisham because of his _storytelling_. Lord of the Flies, 1984, Animal Farm, Hitchhikers’ Guide to Galaxy… those were ace. I don’t have a favorite movie though.” 

“South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.” 

Everybody stared at Harry. The boy had his eyes trained only on Louis, though. Louis gaped at him. After a while, the Styles’ son regained some sense and he ducked his head. “You told me one time in our French class. You told me you like South Park and its movie. You were so goddamn annoying back then.” 

“Right,” Louis said carefully. “Yeah, South Park.” _Me? Annoying?_

Mrs. Styles was smiling. “And how did you find my son back then? What was your impression of him?” 

Louis was now more than sure that this was really an audition. No, he was not interested to be accepted. “In all honesty, I thought he was a no-good pie-eating dodgy monstrous pillock, arse-licking ligger, a nancy boy dead from the neck up, smelly pompous wazzock. He did kinda have that vibe. No offense, ma’am.” 

Mr. Styles cleared his throat. “What did you call my son?” 

Oops. Now out of the limb. “No offense, sir. Really.” 

“No. I mean, you spoke so fast. Repeat.” 

“Uh, I’d rather not.” 

Niall and Ryan were laughing at him. Harry was looking like he was at the end of his patience. The knife in his hand seemed to want to leap to Louis’ throat. 

“And, did that impression of yours of my son changed?” Mrs. Styles asked… hopefully? 

Louis shrugged. “Very.” 

Silence. Ryan, Liam and Niall were back to talking among themselves again and alternating glaring to Zayn and something interesting thing happening under their table. Zayn was smiling at Liam particularly while Gigi was more than contented to use her phone under the table. Sharp whisper of curses left Niall’s lips, directed at the raven-haired man across from Liam. It was irritating how none of the adults focus on them and only on him. 

“So,” Mrs. Jenner started. “You’re gay? Not that there’s nothing wrong with being gay. I mean, I have a friend who is homosexual.” 

Louis just nodded in response. 

“Huh. You act like a boy, though,” Mrs. Jenner commented. 

He narrowed his eyes. What was that supposed to mean? “Not all the time,” he addressed her comment. “I… like Daddy-Long-Legs?” 

Ryan joined the conversation. “What? You have a daddy kink, too?” 

“The book, you idiot,” Louis gritted out. “Piss off; no one’s talking to you.” 

“And with Mr. Ross…” Louis sighed. Finally they would talk to the other boy. But alas. “…how did the two of you meet, Mr. Tomlinson?” Mrs. Styles asked. 

What was this woman’s problem? 

“Nothing special about it,” he answered. “We met during a battle of the bands. He’s a guitarist of some weird band. I was there ‘cause me cousin Patrick and our housemates were playing.” 

“And?” 

“We met. He was sitting beside me. We’re both totally unensanguined when we witnessed Gerard snog Patrick. But we all knew that Gee and Trick like each other anyway.” 

“…” 

“Then Ryan and I decided to spend this summer together. Just like that. We’re crossing states. First time I am doing that. It is fun.” The knife in Harry’s hand switched points in the direction of an unsuspecting Ryan. “We’ve done so many things. There was Amityville and Fourth of July and I got a dishwashing job at Ohio. We’re planning to visit Patrick and Gee in LA—” 

“Are you in a relationship?” Mr. Styles cut. 

“Pardon?” 

“He. Ross. Your boyfriend?” 

_Not to be rude, but the fuck do you care?_ was what Louis wanted to say when suddenly Liam stood from his chair. 

“I think I need to use the toilet,” he announced and left. 

Much to Niall and Louis’ chagrin, Zayn stood up, as well. “I think I need to use the toilet, too.” 

“I think I need to use the toilet, three!” Niall cried and went to the direction where the two men had gone. 

“I will use the toilet, four,” Ryan said. He pinched Louis’ elbow before he left. 

In puzzlement, Louis looked around the table before stuttering out, “Me. Toilet. Five.” He stood up the same time Harry did. 

“Six,” was all Harry said. 

He didn’t look at Harry when he made his way to the room. But before they were out of earshot, he heard Mr. Styles said to the ladies left behind, “But the gents’ room…There were only four stalls.” 

6 

Liam, Niall and Zayn were having a confrontation when Louis and Harry arrived at the scene. Ryan was being the mediator, constantly trying to pull Niall back when the latter seemed to be too ready to use his fist against Zayn. 

“Get your hands, _and feet_ , off Liam! It’s over for you, for fuck’s sake!” Niall cried with unwonted fury. 

Louis looked helplessly at Ryan for information. Well apparently, someone had been running their feet up and down Liam’s below the table while a dinner interview was going on. 

“Zayn,” Harry seethed. 

“Don’t mind me, pal,” Zayn said cheekily. “I’m still continuing my own battle.” 

“Dude, you have a girlfriend,” Ryan said. 

“Who said Gigi’s my girlfriend? And who are you to call me ‘dude’?” 

“Niall and Liam are happy now. Can’t you see?” Louis asked. “What you did back there was a real cock up.” 

Zayn snapped at him. “No one’s asking for your opinion, Louis. Especially not from someone like you.” 

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that everybody’s tired of hearing your grating voice drone on and on all night,” Harry deadpanned. “It was really irritating.” 

Louis glared at him. “Well why didn’t you tell your mum to stop asking me stupid questions? Honestly, asking me what music do I listen to? What is she? Head admin of Facebook profiling? You didn’t tell me you also own Facebook, Harry. And also, congratulations on your engagement. Is she the girl you so proudly brought on that damn family event last February? And also, thanks for letting me know that not only you are a proper git by not introducing me to your family. You didn’t even slip a teeny-weenie clue that you know someone who is from Doncaster on a scholarship that you definitely did not meet in a class course!” 

“Oh, don’t thank me. I actually had no plans of letting them know that you exist, at all,” Harry shot back. 

“Why am I not surprised? It’s in your very character.” Louis howled. But damn, he was hurt by that confession. 

Ryan groaned. “All right. This is getting nowhere. Let’s just go back, Lou.” He pulled Louis’ hand. “Let them fix their own problem.” 

Louis let himself be pulled. No, he couldn’t cry right here. He would cry later on in Ryan’s arms, drown his winding thoughts of acerbity and defeat with crying. Then, someone pulled hardly at Louis’ other hand. 

“Who said we’re through?” Harry asked angrily. “Look, pal. I don’t know who you are and I don’t care if Louis is running away with you, but right now I need you to get out of here and leave the two of us to settle the score.” 

“We’re already through!” Louis retorted. 

Ryan smirked. “See, the problem here is I don’t want to leave Louis with someone like you. His mother… Jay actually entrusted his well-being to me against someone who practically betrayed their trust. I can’t let you hurt Louis again. Not when we have _so many_ plans together.” 

Harry was taken aback. 

“Now, let’s leave these three gentlemen here,” he gestured at Niall, Liam and Zayn who were watching them with intense fascination, “and go outside. You go back to your amazing fiancée and your lovely mother-in-law and your trusting parents. Louis and I will head back to our suite and resume the peace and contentment we were having before he saw your face again tonight.” 

There was an internal debate going on inside Harry’s head. He dropped Louis’ hand with spite. “Who said I wanted to be alone with him, anyway?” 

Right. “Thought so,” Ryan said and guided Louis out of the toilet. 

Small angry tears were falling from Louis’ eyes even before they reached the fifth floor. Back to their room, he wiped it all off with a bitter smile. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry anymore. 

“You showed him,” he beamed at Ryan. 

Ryan mussed his hair. 

The younger boy thought of something. “Do… do you want me to stand up for you against Brendon tomorrow? Just like what you did?” 

He laughed a little. “No, Lou. You don’t need to. I am _really_ over him. No need for revenge. We just need a proper closure. When I think about it, the two of you will get along well.” 

Louis doubted that. Every word Ryan had said deserved to be doubted. However, in this hotel in the mountains in Colorado, where he was surrounded (and would be surrounded by people who hurt him), he couldn’t trust anyone. He was left with Ryan. 

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT


	9. Pride

_“Don't walk away_   
_'Cause if you stay I would even wait all night_   
_Or until my heart explodes._   
_How long?_   
_Until we find our way in the dark and out of harm._   
_You can run away with me_   
_You can write it on your arm_   
_You can run away with me anytime you want.”_

\--My Chemical Romance, _“Summertime”_

Hearing Sarah’s laughter, it made Louis imagined that it was one of the million reasons Brendon fell in love with her. Actually, seeing her for the first time in the hotel lobby that afternoon—reposed then quickly laughing and just joking around with her fiancé— rendered his brain to process all the reasons why Brendon chose her to be the one in his life. 

He was the one who saw them first, of course. Ryan was nervous as fuck, the first time Louis saw him like that. He was agitated to meet the Urie bloke and he couldn’t sit still. Louis, with all the serenity he mustered from waking up that morning fresh from crying all night, saw Brendon and Sarah – it was a surprise to him too how he recognized their faces when he only saw them once before – saw them amidst the throng of people like a vertical in the land of horizontals, a 0 in the portrait of 8s, a green in the midst of reds. Louis nudged Ryan. Again, for the first time, Ryan was speechless when he saw them. Louis observed his face: happiness, relief, jealousy. 

Ryan introduced him to them, and them to him. Brendon only recognized him as the cousin of Patrick and the housemate of The Chemical Fall Out and nothing else. Louis didn’t mind. Their paths were never fated to cross anyway if it wasn’t for Ryan, who by the way paid him a little attention the rest of that afternoon to interact with Brendon and Sarah. He was vaguely aware that his summer buddy was instructing him to get dressed for the hotel’s 1920’s theme party. Louis’ mind was elsewhere, and the way he feels was too familiar. It was like the time Frank and Liam made him sit down and talk about what Harry did to a family gathering Louis was never aware of. Or like the time Louis and Harry had that talk where both of them exchanged hurtful words to each other. The feeling was the same: he was losing Ryan. 

They went to the hall where the time was 1920’s (the Styles-Jenner engagement party were being held at another hall at the other side of the hotel). Casually, the four sat around in a couch, drank good wine, smoked cigars, and talked about college plans, dreams, career paths and relationships. Maybe it was his bitterness or his grown possessive behavior towards Ryan, but the more Louis listened to Brendon proposed his engagement plans to Sarah and she put in her suggestions so that they can still make time for college, the more Louis realized how they were cute together. Definitely maybe even good for each other. He would keep his irritation towards Ryan to himself. _How can you not see this?_

As expected, the engaged couple asked what the deal was between Ryan and Louis. Louis prepared himself for his partner’s answer. He was bracing himself for his denial even though Louis knew that they both knew they were already sharing something special (and he was ready to expose that to both of them, truth be told). But Brendon’s question was not finished, it turned out. 

“‘Cause the last time I checked, you and Dallon were making heart eyes to each other,” Brendon asked cheekily. 

What? There was another boy in Ryan’s life aside from Brendon? Why didn’t Ryan give him the slightest clue? 

Ryan was dismissing it too eagerly. “Dallon? Nah. We’re just goofing around. I’ll exchange him for Louis every day.” He winked at the younger boy. 

“You better,” he hissed, watching Ryan’s smile morphed into a frown when he realized how serious Louis was and how he wanted Ryan to not joke about that. 

“I don’t like Dallon very much,” Sarah said out of nowhere. 

_Good. I don’t like him too,_ Louis thought. _Even though I only met him once._

“Why’d you say that, babe?” Brendon asked. 

She shrugged. “I just got this funny feeling about him.” 

“They are always groping each other during live performance,” Ryan told Louis. 

“Is that...? Babe, you know that that’s just for the fans,” Brendon defended himself. 

She shook her head. “I understand that… Never mind. Maybe I just liked Jon as your bassist too much.” 

Both Brendon and Ryan tensed at the name. Very soon Sarah and Louis were left out when the two men talked about their band. The band onstage was playing Al Jonson hits, and they had nothing else to do, so they got up to dance and left the two bandmates discuss their matters. 

“I don’t dance that well,” Louis admitted shyly to her halfway to the dance floor. 

Sarah giggled. “Me neither! Let’s make an ass of ourselves!” 

They did. People made a big space for the lady in shear-beaded black flapper dress and red-peacock headband and the boy in dark blue vest and bowler hat. They were dancing and kicking wildly, could have been putting Charleston dance into shame. The pair lost it more when Mamie Smith’s _Goin’ Crazy With The Blues_ was followed by _Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head_ , because what the hell was BJ Thomas doing in 1920s? All was forgiven however when they realized that the musical structure was changed a little to have the needed jazz-y vibe. They continued to dance. 

“I hope you’ll keep Ryan happy,” Sarah whispered to him suddenly after the prodigiously wearisome number. “The guy deserves it.” 

Louis was taken aback by her words. He couldn’t utter any response. By the time he managed to ask, “What do you mean?” (because he really wanted to know more about Ryan), an unknown individual embraced Louis from behind, making the Brit almost jumped to his skin. 

The unknown individual turned out to be Niall. Sarah was giggling, her last words forgotten. Louis glared at his friend and asked what he was doing there. 

“The engagement party got me bored,” Niall said with a shrug. “All I hear were all about yachts and butlers and Europe and summer houses.” 

“And Liam?” Louis continued to ask while Sarah regarded them mirthfully. 

“With me, o’ course.” The bleached-blonde pointed to Liam who was conversing with Ryan and Brendon. Huh. What a progress of events. 

“Well… not that I’m concerned but… what about Harry?” 

“Er… no. He didn’t even notice us leaving, Lou. Don’t fret about it. By the way, who is she?” 

Sarah and Niall exchanged introductions. Soon they were back doing Charleston, the three of them side by side (with Louis in the middle), arms around each other, stepping right feet forward, left kicking, then left stepping backward and right kicking. It’s all so funny. Louis never remembered having such a good time in social gatherings. 

“Let’s rest! Let’s rest!” Sarah was laughing so hard. 

“Let’s go back to the men our lives,” Niall said slyly, casually resting his head on the crooks of Louis’ neck and breathing in. At his other side, Sarah enclosed his arm tightly. Louis tried to lead the two weights off the dance floor. 

“What do you think they are talking about?” Louis asked, still catching his breath from dancing. 

“Politics and the weather, perhaps,” Sarah said. “Maybe how they don’t deserve any of us.” 

That earned a laugh from the two boys. “Probably.” 

The three men received them with generous bows. Sarah didn’t get her much-wanted rest when Brendon asked her for a dance. The four other men were left with bourbon and lame jokes about the past night. Niall was getting to the part where he punished Liam by riding his dick for excruciatingly long hours ( _‘Cause no one makes a go at Liam. And no one knows how to pleasure Liam like I do!_ ) and Louis neither Ryan nor Liam wanted that information spoken out loud, so the stepbrother of Frank grabbed Niall to where Brendon and Sarah were now dancing waltz. 

“That friend of yours,” Ryan started after they were left alone, “he’s gonna get us into trouble.” 

Louis sighed. “I know.” He could already imagine some of the Styles and Jenners and his college friends to come there looking for Niall and Liam because they both belong to their world. They are both hutched to rich and well-regarded families (at least the Payne-side of the family was; Frank Iero stayed with his humble mother and it was the reason he was flat-ass broke like the rest of his bandmates). Louis, on the other hand, well… he was more than happy to stay in his little world, too. And it would be God’s blessing if he wouldn’t see Harry again in their stay in Denver, or forever. 

“I’m kind of tired... Do you want to go back to our room?” Louis asked. 

Ryan paused, and Louis had to watch him glance in the direction of Brendon. “I think I’ll stay here for a little while. You can go on without me if you want. Take a rest. We’ll leave tomorrow.” 

Leaving was for the best for the two of them. “Okay. Say good night to them for me,” he said and stood up. Ryan didn’t even spare a glance at his departure. It hurt. 

He took his time walking down the quiet corridors of the hotel. The silence was very comforting, though. It made him pensive. There was an open window in the hallway; night summer breeze was flowing in. Louis decided that it would be waste if he retired so early in their room. So he found a backdoor and slipped quietly to the courtyard. The courtyard was near the 1920s’ hallway though, and Louis was hearing the music the jazz orchestra was playing at the other side of the walls. It all added to the loveliness of the night. 

Maybe it was the alcohol thinking. He wasn’t usually this sappy. 

He sat at the steps of a gazebo, taking off his hat and dropping it on the grass as he did so. 

Alone. He was alone. 

2 

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Niall was shaking his shoulders softly. Well it appeared he didn’t sleep for too long because the jazz music was still continuing. He looked at Niall in askance. “How did you find me?” 

Niall shrugged. “A staff saw you go here.” He took the space beside him. “Louis…” 

“Is Liam still in there?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What if Zayn comes and you’re not there to wade him off?” 

“I trust him, Lou. Tommo, enough of me. Let’s talk about you…” 

Oh, but Louis did not want a pep talk. Not now. Not ever. Though he knew what Niall only wanted was for the best, he felt a little exasperation boiling inside of him. He should be used to it by now, he rationalized, considering it was as if Niall was born to give pep talks, always the one to convince you to make peace and communicate with yourself and the your enemy. Maybe it had something to do with him being a Psychology major. 

The day he met Niall, when was it? It didn’t matter. There was this time when Frank and Liam had a fight (maybe around the time when police raids were so rampant when news of terrorism broke out). Frank and Liam had a painful about their father. Liam adored him, Frank not so much. Both brothers were at fault but it was Frank who was hurting more. And well, you don’t want to see someone who is the bee’s knees to you absolutely gutted, right? Louis knew Liam by then, the latter being a constant visitor to the house. He saw no harm in trying to get Liam to make up with Frank. He visited their dorm and he arrived at the scene where another young boy was talking some sense to Liam about pride and brotherhood, an arm around his shoulder. Louis was about to leave when the talk was suddenly finished. Liam asked him quickly if Frank was in the house and rushed to meet him there. Louis was left with Niall, feeling awkward. Niall was just too thrilled to find someone who was also from another land. He couldn’t say they hit it off immediately afterwards, but Niall practically followed him and chatted with him and kept him to himself for the following weeks, until he met Harry, that was. Niall liked Louis; Louis was cool with that. He found his smile to be infectious; it was one of the things he adored about him. 

Back to the present, Niall was glumly staring at him. “I know how it affects you that Harry is getting married, and the bloke still hasn’t apologized for that careless decision.” He paused, waiting patiently for Louis’ response. 

Louis gave in. “The thing, Niall, is I understand him. He belongs to someone better. I mean, look at me…” 

“Lou—” 

“No, I’m not just talking about social status, Niall. I’m a mess up. Harry couldn’t be with someone who pressures him like I did. That is unacceptable. I can’t push myself into his life, can I? I know that what I did was wrong. And heck, what if I was just a phase to him? I should know my place. I should stop thinking about myself.” 

“But, Louis…” 

“Pushing his identity crisis aside, we still wouldn’t work out. Even if he comes out to his parents, I’m still a bore in relationships. He told me so. I offer nothing new. I’m not an adventure… After all these, I’d like to apologize to him. Will you tell him that, Niall? Tell him I’m sorry I said all those bad things? Tell him too that I’m truly happy for him. He moved on so quickly. I don’t want him to be as bitter as me for a long time. He doesn’t deserve that.” 

Niall was looking at him with sad eyes. “What about you?” 

“I think I can handle being alone.” 

“Alone? What about Ryan? I thought you two are… Do you want me to talk to him? Sort of like ambuscade him to know his feelings or something of that sort?” 

Louis actually laughed at that one, though Niall was serious. Niall was a truly caring person but it would be better if he didn’t get himself involved. “Well… Ryan hasn’t moved on from Brendon. No matter how that bastard lie that he’s over him and is only looking for a closure, I can see right through him.” 

Niall clutched his hand. “Does it hurt?” 

“Yeah… Considering that I might have developed feelings for him already. Too soon, I know… He said we could be alone together, you know? We could be, considering we’re heartbroken arseholes whose exes were both _engaged_ , but it hurts because he’s not really trying to move past him.”Too exhausted now, Louis laid his head on Niall’s shoulder, the latter warmed him with a one-armed embrace. 

“Would you still try, though, with him?” Niall asked quietly. 

Louis nodded slowly. “I’m a fool when it comes to the l-word, am I not?” 

“What do you do, then, if you and Ryan won’t work?” 

“Frank got a job somewhere in Doncaster. I’ll fly there this Christmas, get him drunk, try to sleep with him, and, voila, I got my awesome ever after.” 

Niall finally chortled. “Arsehole.” 

Inside, the paid singer covered Al Jonson’s April Showers. 

“I’m sorry you and Harry didn’t work out.” 

“…” 

“I thought I am the grandest matchmaker out there but turned out I’m not.” 

Louis shot an eyebrow up. “You paired us up?” 

“Yeah. Do you think I really believe that thesaurus is a book of dinosaurs and that I don’t know how to spell Tyrannosaurus Rex? You offend me so.” 

“You can’t blame me. You’re ace in acting. And I thought Pete pranked you?” 

“It was Pete’s and my idea.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah. And Liam’s.” 

“Yeah, all right. The three of you are terrible matchmakers.” 

Niall kissed the top of his head and thankfully diverged from the topic. “Let’s go back inside. I want to dance with you.” 

“There’s music here,” Louis pointed out. 

“Eh? But…” 

“Come on, Ni. Have a little adventure.” 

“I thought you said earlier that you offer no adventure?” 

“Must be Ryan’s influence.” 

3 

Niall inevitably pulled him back to the hall. Ryan looked up from the couch where he was still sulking with Liam. Brendon and Sarah were (again? still?) on the dance floor. 

“I thought you’re asleep?” Ryan asked. He was glowering at Niall and Louis’ held hands. 

“Once in a lifetime do I get a chance to be in a 1920s theme party,” Louis said. “I hate to be a bummer.” 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, you were.” 

The band was starting a new number. “Louis and I’ll gonna dance!” Niall piped up and pulled at Louis again. 

“Well, save a dance for me, will you, Lou?” Ryan called out. 

The Brit looked over his shoulder. Hope. Affection. “Piss off, Ry!” he laughed. Ryan flipped him off. 

Niall pulled their bodies close together, an arm below high around his back, the other holding his hand high to eye level. Louis frowned. “Why am I the girl?” 

“‘Cause I’m feeling like your knight in shining armor tonight,” Niall pointed out. “Free yourself of worries and let’s just dance, milady.” 

Louis scoffed but eventually put his free hand on Niall’s shoulder. The music began. A great number of couples waltz across the dance floor (God, what time was it? why are there still that many people up?). Now Louis thought that all those dancing lessons in high school had paid off. He let Niall guide him through the box and walk steps. It must be ridiculous to see that they were the only same-sex partners in the floor and Niall was not even dressed for The Jazz Age. Louis was getting conscious as well when he glanced to his right to the other dancers and he saw Sarah smiling at them. He felt better. 

The number was nearing its end. Behind Niall’s back, beyond the undergrowth of waltzing beautiful people, Louis saw Liam approaching. When the music ended, Liam patted his boyfriend’s head. Niall turned around in delight and wrapped his boyfriend in an embrace. 

Louis tensed when an arm enclosed him from behind. 

“I said you have to save me a dance, didn’t I?” Ryan whispered in his ear. 

“Impatient little git,” Louis said, but inside he was happy. Ryan guided him to the dance position. Louis didn’t complain about being the ‘girl’ this time. 

When they were gently swaying back and forth across the dance floor and Louis looked around for the second time, he now saw that it was Sarah _and_ Brendon giving smiles of approval. Niall and Liam were wrapped up in their little world on the other hand. And Louis focused on the heat radiating from his body, and how he could feel Ryan’s heartbeat in his chest, and how he could hear Ryan’s breathing on his ear, and how he noticed for the first time that this dance position was so intimate, how Ryan never let their bodies separate that Louis was already leaning against his cheek. 

“How’d you find them?” Ryan asked softly. 

“Hush, didn’t you know that dancing is supposed to be cherished… quiet?” Louis chided. 

“How did you find Brendon and Sarah?” Ryan asked _more_ softly and slowly just to annoy him. 

Louis snorted. “I like Sarah. I like Brendon, too. Like really. Might steal him from both of you.” 

Ryan pulled back a little and glared at him. “Very funny. 

He nodded. “Yep. It’s true. What with my British charms, I think I can do it.” 

“There isn’t such a thing!” 

“You swore there is.” 

“I don’t remember. Forget it… what do you say about Sarah? Is she good for him?” 

No hesitation. “Yes.” _So can you please get over him already? I’m dying here._

“I knew it.” 

The younger boy rested his head against Ryan’s cheek again. “Sarah said I should keep you happy. Am I making you happy?” 

Ryan groaned. “As if. You shouldn’t believe to strangers, Lou.” 

“She’s no stranger to me now. In fact, I like her more than you.” 

“Louis, if you make me happy I’ll be holding your hands in public, I’ll be taking care of you when you’re sick, I’ll claim you as mine, and I’ll be sleeping with you.” 

“I’m starting to wonder if you hit your head when you were a child because _you did those things_.” 

“I did?” 

“You know, for all the admiration I have for you for your carefree attitude, I say you’re nothing but a wimp in expressing honest feelings.” 

He didn’t expect Ryan, of all things, to laugh. “Hush, Lou. Didn’t you know that a dance as intimate as this necessitates no words? Okay, you make me _forget_. Are we good?” 

Louis hummed in response. Not good but enough. 

“Oh, and I’ve decided to extend our stay here.” Ryan said suddenly. 

Heart skipped a beat. He could only utter one word to his face. “What?” 

“Come on. It’s good for us, Lou. This place is nice. What’s the difference of making this an extended stay?” 

“Until when?” 

The older of the two was hesitant. They were circling in slower pace now. “One week.” 

“But Wyoming and… South Dakota… a-and Idaho,” Louis was stuttering. What he was meaning to say is they are still going to a lot of places, one week in Colorado is an awful waste of time, and summer is ending soon. He couldn’t make it out because the other half of his brain was racking possibilities why would Ryan wanted to stay for that long in this place. 

Ryan didn’t seem to care. “After this, I’ll take you to LA. No problem. We’ve stayed longer times in other places before. It shouldn’t be a big deal.” 

Louis stopped dancing. “Is this because of _them_? They are staying two more weeks here, don’t they? Don’t deny it.” 

He didn’t. “Look, Louis… We’ll just try again next summer, how about that? Please, for the love of God, _don’t_ make this such a big deal.” 

He couldn’t believe it. “You said this is all for a closure. You said you’re over him.” 

The other boy’s anger was rising, too. “Fuck, Lou. What – what do you care? It’s complicated. You of all people should see that.” 

“He’s getting married,” he reminded him. It’s a struggle not to raise their voices in fear of gossipmongers around. “I know how you feel but you don’t see me around trying to seduce Harry back, right?” 

“It’s different for you. You hate Harry. No. You want to believe you hate Harry. You’re good in treading the boards, I’m not even sure you realize. Wherein I…” Ryan finished it with a sigh. 

“You still love Brendon,” Louis proposed a more appropriate ending. “You lied to me. I… He’s got a fiancée and you… you don’t really know when to stop, do you?” 

“If I dedicate all my life waiting for him to come back, it’s my decision. You don’t have a right to butt in. I will wait. I will keep on waiting.” 

“But he’s getting married… What kind of person are you? You disgust me.” 

Ryan flinched at the insult. He was looking for words to come back at Louis but he didn’t let him when he asked a desperate and honest question. 

“Am I not enough to make you forget about him?” 

Again taken aback, but this time Ryan managed to smile and laugh a little, as if the idea was utterly silly. “You’re really just a kid, aren’t you Louis? But you’re near my age. Grow up. This is not a fucking movie. No one falls in love – forgets – in that short of time. It’s totally bullshit, an absolute crap. And… I barely even know you.” 

Another number ended. They resolved to stare at each other, study, glare, plead. Louis had no desire to move, ( _How apt it was that the next song was_ Changing Partners?) but Brendon and Sarah finished their dance and the former made his way to Ryan, the latter to a bar. Ryan finally spared him one challenging glance before taking off with Brendon. Louis smiled at them bitterly. He was tired anyhow (and empty and forlorn) and he would go upstairs to rest for real, then in the morning he would wake up and leave this place, and he would go to LA alone and forget all the heartbreaking business Denver had offered. Screw Ryan Ross. He hated him now too. He strode off the room without once looking back. 

Somebody was following him when he was running-walking in the hallway. They caught up with him soon and pulled at his arm so Louis had to tell him off because he did not want to occupy his time talking to whoever plonker holding him while the new object of his affections was with another boy. He thought it was Niall because the touch was familiar, and the familiar he only felt recently were Niall, Liam and Ryan. But the familiarity of the touch belonged to a long curly-haired tall lad with green set of eyes, in a suit not for the 1920s and a scowl so deep. To say he was surprise is an understatement. 

“N-Niall and Liam are over there,” he pointed because rationality kicked in and he figured it was the only reason Harry was there. 

“I know,” was the curt response. 

“What do you want?” 

Harry snickered. What? He’s angry again. God, Louis was so tired of anger, of hatred, of fighting. He just wanted to rest and cry alone in peace. He hoped, however, that this need be a little bit more than shadowy and not too obvious for the sake of his ruined pride. 

“For some pathetic reason, Mom wanted to talk to you, get to know more about you. After you rudely bailed out on us last night, I don’t know why she expects you to attend _my_ engagement party. Fucking hell, she acts like you’re the one I’m gonna marry. It’s fucking _disgusting_ , is what it is. Well, but she loves charity case, it’s more than telling.” 

Louis smiled a tired smile. “Tell her then that I’m sorry. Tell her I’d rather acquire Chlamydia and slit my throat with a breadknife while fingering myself with a hanger than be in the presence of another Styles. No _disgusting_ offense intended.” He sidestepped him but Harry blocked his way. He could be angry but he really was tired. “Go away. Why don’t you go back to your engagement party? I heard from Niall that it was pretty boring.” 

“How would you know? You’d never, will never, be in such things before.” The taller boy pointed to the direction of the ballroom. “I saw what happened by the way. Who is your boyfriend dancing with? What, he found a better man? Kudos to him, he caught up quicker than I did.” 

Louis tensed. He looked down to his shoes. _I won’t cry. I won’t cry in front of this sleazy bastard. I’m a man, dammit. Toughen up, Louis._

“Pretty soon they’ll get married, too. He’ll see what a waste it all has been being with you.” 

In his exhausted mind, Louis was struggling to recall: what did he ever do to Harry to deserve such brutal treatment? When did they go from loving to hating each other? He struggled very hard to think. 

“Maybe we’ll even be friends,” Harry added with a laugh. 

But Louis was being holy about Harry earlier. He said he was ready to forgive and forget what Harry did and who Harry was. Why was the world still treating him unfairly? He tried walking off but fuck— 

“Would you please let me go?” Louis asked, eyes glued to his shoes. 

No movement from the other party. 

“Leave me alone, _Styles_.” 

A snicker. “Are you ready to cry?” 

“I SAID FUCK OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!” He swatted his arm off and pushed Harry off… with a tightened fist connecting squarely to the jaw of the face of the sweet Styles heir. Harry plummeted to the ground, but Louis didn’t waste any time seeing anymore of his destructive reaction. Chest heaving, he made a quick exit to the hallway, pass the staffs, into the elevator, up to his floor. He was running and it was so stupid and he couldn’t relax. How odd. He had been dreaming of punching the living daylights out of Harry ever since yesterday. He thought it would be gratifying. Nope. Far from it. He was just… sad. 

His whole body was trembling when he reached their – Ryan’s – quaint suite. 

_“Hello, darkness, my old friend.”_

So he had to experience twice the heartbreak this summer, huh? Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it will get him to be a better student. That’s right; focus on academics instead. Who needs romance, anyway? He’s going to be successful in life with or without it. Money is good; he’ll just love money better. 

He went to the bathroom and changed to his normal clothes. He would be leaving tonight. No sense of sleeping in the room when Ryan comes. He just might change his mind. 

His traveling bag seemed a hundred times heavier. Also his feet. Also his head. 

Harry was waiting outside the door. His jaw didn’t appear to be broken (Now Louis wished he could do it again and hoped that the second time would be gratifying and with terrifying results) but a trickle of blood sipped from the corner of his lips. Louis groaned in frustration and defeat. 

“Please,” was all he managed to say. Harry was just staring at him hard. He was beyond pissed and Louis knew he wanted to retaliate to the punching he got earlier. If so, he wished he could make it quick and let Louis leave afterwards. He was, for the umpteenth time that he said to himself, too tired. 

“You’re leaving tonight,” Harry began, “like the sore loser that you are.” 

That did it. Louis bawled in tears. Manly, manly tears. The only time he cried this hard was when Kamina died in _Gurren Lagann_. It was all so stupid. 

Harry, for his part, didn’t expect this. He expected Louis to fight him back, because Louis always does. Louis had so much pride in him to break down in front of somebody. Even when they fought months back, Louis had the last word. 

_Maybe he took it too far. Maybe it hurt him to find Harry engaged. Maybe his summer buddy is the reason for this._

Louis was making drunken steps towards the elevator as he continued sniveling. Harry caught up with him. 

“Please… just let me go… you won, okay? You won.” Louis was flailing against his arms but Harry was not letting him go. “You won,” Louis repeated with a hiccup. “You’re right… I’m nothing… I’m not worth it, not enough. I shouldn’t have tried again… I won’t, ever again. Promise. So just let me go… Please, Harry. For once in your stupid life, let me go.” 

Harry’s stomach dropped. _Did his drab summer companion say those horrid things to Louis?_

“What happened, Lou? Tell me.” 

Louis was pushing him lamely but Harry kept his hold. “I should’ve just went home when I had the chance… I shouldn’t have listened to him…” he muttered through tears. Then loudly, “Let me go, God fucking damn it!” with one particular push, Louis freed himself, but it was only for a second before Harry grabbed him by the waist and muffled his curses with his lips. 

Louis didn’t want it, didn’t want anything that would make life more complicated. But Harry was probing in deeper, gained entrance to his mouth despite Louis fighting against it. He didn’t want him, he wanted Ryan. He wanted somebody who’s not afraid, who’s a free soul, who’s very willing to let him meet his parents, hold his hands in public, fight for his honor. But in the end, Ryan proved to be another idiot, didn’t he? 

He kissed back rather angrily. 

Harry looked around the hallway. It was empty, and it was either the occupants of the floor were on the party below or asleep in the late of the night. Good. He was safe. No one saw them. He pulled Louis with him to his room. 

4 

In hurried movements, Harry wetted a piece of cloth and dabbed Louis’ eyes with it. The Brit was still too stunned to do anything but let his ex do his work. 

Finished, they turned awkward and quiet as they relished the kiss earlier. 

Louis studied his hands. He didn’t want to think anymore. Whatever was happening now, he was done. Harry here still had done something bad and he didn’t want to hear excuses. Little did he know that in that moment Harry was drafting his apology inside his mind, because (a) he never wanted for Louis to self-destruct with all his hurtful words, and (b) he never realized how selfish he had become by not wanting Louis to be happy just like him with his impending marriage. 

God, what a night. 

“Louis—” 

“I need to go,” Louis said, still not looking up. “Your friends might see us here. Your family too. And they know I’m gay so…” a self-depreciating laugh. “They might think… bad things about me.” 

Harry felt guilty. 

“Go, Harry. They maybe are looking for you, too.” 

“Stay here for tonight,” Harry blurted out without thinking, brazenly so. “No one will know you’re here. You look tired. You need to sleep here. I promise no one will catch us.” 

A tear fell again from Louis’ eyes. 

Harry stood up. “If… you wanna talk about it…” 

Louis shook his head. 

He looked between the door and Louis, two minds on whether to leave or to stay. He chose to go to his family and his fiancée and his friends. He chose to go back to faking things. 

5 

When he came back at two in the morning, Louis was not in bed. Instead, he found him curled in the bathtub, cried himself to sleep. He carried him back to bed and slept beside him under the covers. He longed for his embrace. It was the most peaceful sleep Harry had for months. 

6 

Harry was still fast asleep when Louis woke up in the wee hours of the morning. How unusual, he remembered very clearly sleeping in the bathtub. And Harry hated him, right? Why did he tuck him back in bed? He studied his sleeping face for some time and traced the frown lines lightly with his fingers. They weren’t that visible before. He dipped his finger to Harry’s cheek where his dimple should be and laughed softly when he scrunched his nose in his sleep. 

He got out of bed carefully. He got his backpack and left the building. 

He didn’t expect to see Ryan waiting for him in the lobby, with his own pack, as if waiting for him all morning there. Louis trudged on. 

“Where did you stay last night?” Ryan asked, keeping up with his fast pace. 

“What do you care?” he deadpanned. 

“It’s not with Liam and Niall. They were with us the whole night,” Ryan was saying. “So where?” 

He faced his boy. “I thought you’re staying here for one more week? What are you doing now?” 

Ryan was hesitant. “I… changed my mind… I can’t let you go alone…” 

“You knew I would go anyway even if you insisted to stay,” Louis realized. “Yet last night you were adamant to stay with Brendon and Sarah. Fucking shit. What made you change your mind? Did something happen when I was gone?” 

He was suddenly anxious. “Look—” 

“Good. Serves you right.” He walked on to the car park. 

Ryan pulled him to a halt. There was an obscure hint of shameful remorse on his face. “I’m sorry, okay? What do you want me to do?” 

He was in disbelief. “It’s not that simple. You can’t just ask me what to do like that.” 

“Then what?” Ryan pleaded. “Please, Lou. I don’t want you to run off from me too.” 

Louis studied him. _I don’t want you to run off from me too_. Why did he relate with that so much? Why was there suddenly pity, longing, warmth? Maybe he should let it go for now. Here was a chance to avoid an oh-so-complicated summer. Here was Ryan again offering simplicity. Why shouldn’t he take him back? 

“Can I at least know what your plans with Brendon are?” Louis asked with immense vulnerability. 

Ryan looked away. “I am always waiting for him. Always and always. Even before. Even when he chose not to be with me. You can’t at least blame me for hoping, Lou. Yes, it was an impulsive decision, the proposal to stay here longer. But I didn’t know you’d react that way. Then you insulted me… and I had to make a stand.” He looked at him. “Simplicity always comes with impulsiveness, Lou. And I’m both. You should know that about me.” 

Louis nodded. “My question…” 

He shrugged. “I’ll let it go.” 

“For now?” 

He was sad. “No. This is the last time I’ll say I’ll let him go. I have no more chances in the future. They’re getting married soon. Bastards didn’t even want to wait graduation. Can you believe that?” he produced a dry laugh. “Am I a bad person if I wish they won’t ever graduate?” 

Louis went to his tippy toes and wounded his arms around his neck. 

“Jesus, Lou. Are you crying?” Ryan asked with tears swelling from his own eyes. 

“I hate you. You made me nervous,” Louis mumbled. 

“You’re really just a kid. Just a kid.” 

“Yeah. But I’m _your_ kid.” 

Now Ryan laughed very loudly. “That sounded so fucked up! So fucking weird!” He pounded his back. 

“Shut up. I hate you!” 

There they were, laughing and crying in the car park of the grand hotel in the early morning hours. Both tactful, both needy of each other, whirling around. Codependence or not, it didn’t matter. No care in the world and ready to move to on. _So this is how it feels_ , Louis thought, _of being chosen_. 

7 

Unbeknownst to them, there was someone who was watching them from the hotel lobby. 

Harry woke up and became agitated when Louis was not there beside him. He ran downstairs to here, and then found his boy with another in the car park. He saw them kissed. He saw him happy. 

He was distraught. 

His mother, Anne, who went downstairs earlier to inquire about the breakfast to the staffs, saw her son looking longingly outside the window. She went to him and, in his desperate state, he didn’t notice her. Anne saw Louis, too, with Ryan. She watched them walk off. Then she looked at her son. 

She smiled. Mothers know best. 

“Mom?” Harry asked groggily. “What are you doing here?” 

She shook her head and eyed her only boy with concern. “Do you have something to tell me, Harry?” 

She watched a lump went down his throat. She’d been waiting for him to confide his secrets to him for so long. She will understand. 

Harry blinked back a few tears. “Yes. I need to tell you something.” 

END OF CHAPTER NINE


	10. Precursors

_“Put another x on the calendar_   
_Summer's on its deathbed_   
_There is simply nothing worse_   
_Than knowing how it ends_   
_And I meant everything I said that night_   
_I will come back to life_   
_But only for you_   
_Only for you.”_

\--Panic! At The Disco, _“The Calendar”_

In South Park they agreed to forget what happened in Denver, if only temporarily. They still have a long way to go and so little time to travel to all of their desired destinations. It would be easier for them if they wouldn’t carry too much heartache. It was also there that Louis decided he didn’t hate Harry anymore. Life would go on and he couldn’t do anything about his ex’s cagey pursuit for happiness and he was most certainly happy where he was now at that point in time. Surely bitterness will lead you nowhere. 

In Wyoming, while they were cutting through Yellowstone National Park, Ryan asked him _who_ does he dream himself to be with five to ten years from now. Louis found himself wanting to say his name, because it was right, at least that was what he thought. He wanted them to be together, really. But suddenly there was uncertainty that began clouding in his mind. His pal was waiting for an answer and he didn’t want to separate hope and wishful thinking, so he answered jokingly, “Frank Iero.” 

“No, Louis. I’m serious,” Ryan said. 

“I am serious, too,” he laughed. 

“You’re not.” 

They got into a short argument after that just because Louis’ joke turned into a forceful lie. 

In a little motel in Jackson, they made up quickly, both acknowledging that they couldn’t spoil the remaining weeks of summer with a fight. 

New academic year starts in a month. 

In South Dakota, as they marvel over Mount Rushmore in the middle of a hazy day, Louis wanted to know what Ryan’s plans now that Brendon is gone in his life. He asked him that, and Ryan answered curtly that there is still his band. Music is still with him; there are a lot more people out there and Brendon is not the center of the universe; he would survive. No big deal. Move along and get by, which were the things he had been teaching him all summer. Louis accepted his answer easily. 

In Pettigrew Home and Museum, getting into a brawl with a rather rowdy group of tourists (boys, punks, students as Louis guessed), he was pushed down a three-rung stair. His bag fell and along with it his laptop broke inside. After three years with the damned thing, it rendered itself useless. Hundreds of photographs were in that gadget though, and Louis swore he would get that thing fixed. He was in a bad mood all day that day. He only felt better when he got back to the apparent leader of the punks with a hard swing to his nose and Ryan gave the rest Indian sunburns to complete the thought that they were just kids dealing with adults . 

In the National Music Museum, Ryan learned that Louis could sing. He invited him to have a session with him and his new band. He’d finally decided to accept Jon’s offer, though there was still no way to let the other man know. Another thing to look forward for in the future. 

In Montana, as they walked along the seemingly endless graves in Custer National Cemetery in Little Bighorn National Monument, Louis remembered the days past. He realized that days and nights moved slow but times moved fast. _Summer, summer, summer_ , his mind repeated. This was actually turning out to be the most important summer in his life and he didn’t want to let go. Less than a month. He got less than a month to treasure all of these and he just couldn’t… Out of nowhere, he cried. 

Ryan, who was giving him a lecture on the fight between US Army and Sioux and Cheyenne Indians in 1876, thought the younger boy was crying because of the lesson. He retorted that wars happen all the time, but he knew better. Louis was crying for a different reason and he also knew better than to ask him what. He held Louis in his arms as he cried on. 

In the state capital, Louis witnessed a gay wedding for the first time. 

At the Lake Coeur d’Alene in Idaho, at sunset on a boat they haggled, out of the blue, Ryan said, “You know we could be together” complete with a pained expression he was sure he’s never seen before. Stunned, Louis never uttered an answer. He never recovered in their whole stay in Idaho; he never got to think of the _right_ response to that. Ryan didn’t seem to mind. 

They had two weeks left before summer was over. 

In a roadside motel in Idaho, Louis remembered something. 

Ryan just came inside of him. He pulled carefully and he slid off to Louis’ side with eyes closed, ready to sleep. Louis watched his face, first. He was adored how his breath intakes fan his hair and Louis’ face with cool, minty breath. Louis cleared his throat, and Ryan opened his eyes immediately. 

“So… this Dallon Weekes… who is he?” he asked, courageous enough to face him directly, breathless with the aftermath of sex, the stuffy room, and anticipation for answer. 

The older one had one eyebrow shot up. “A bandmate?” 

“And?” 

Louis knew this was a bad time as any to be asking that shit. However, they were going to Nevada tomorrow and Ryan had mentioned that Dallon lived there as well, and Brendon said something about between the two of them, and Louis actually remembered that Dallon sat with them too during Battle of the Bands. He sat with them even though he should be along with Spencer behind Brendon when the latter was proposing marriage to Sarah. 

Ryan groaned lightly. “Where is this coming from, Lou? Don’t tell me you’ll start getting jealous with all the boys around me from now on? Don’t be like that. Dallon, of all people.” 

Louis couldn’t find any words. 

Ryan reached a hand out and began brushing strands of hair from Louis’ eyes. “Dallon’s a friend, okay? Dallon… was also in love with Brendon. Dallon was my rival. We were always competing for Brendon’s attention. Spoiler alert, none of us won him over. As you already know.” He finished in a whisper. 

“Is that so?” Louis croaked out. 

A deep sigh. “Yes. And, if you want honesty, if you want to know what the deal between me and Dallon, I’m afraid—” 

“You shagged, yeah?” 

A laugh though devoid of humor. “Is it that predictable? We were both lonely… and both available at the time. You do things to alleviate longing; just like what we were doing right now, Lou.” 

He closed his eyes and crawled beneath Ryan’s arms. He felt warm fingers trace along his back and he eased closer. 

“I wish you were there. Wish we met a long time ago,” Ryan whispered as he rub Louis’ spine. “But if I have to guess, you were still with Harry when Brendon broke to Dallon and me the news that he’d met someone.” 

“When did that happen?” he asked, still with staid resolve. 

“Last year. Around September. So?” 

Louis gave a little shrug. “Yeah. I was still with him.” When he felt a breath of laugh coming from the other boy, he added weakly, “But I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

“You are. And I’m glad. Now can we sleep? I’d clean you up but I’m dead—” 

“How does he feel about you, though?” 

Ryan entertained him some more. “There’s nothing special going on between us. I would know if there is something, right?” 

As if. He knew Ryan to be one of the densest schmuck in his life. 

“What are you really asking, Lou?” 

Curse the embarrassment, the anxiety, the fear for the later years, at the end of summer. Instead of going on to ask boldly, _What about us? Is it LouisandRyan now? Because I want that to happen; want to, want so, want too much_. He was close to telling him those words (I think I love you) but he was too much of a coward. 

But to love him, though? Was this really love? Need sometimes develops to actual love, right? But what if the longing for each they were feeling at the moment would fade? What if they get better and they don’t need to take any more medicine? What would happen then? It would all be a waste, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to be reckless now; that’s how he fell in love with Harry! And look how that turned out. 

“You shagged him… My God, are you even clean?” 

Ryan was thrown by the question but he laughed it off. The tension was broken. “You’re asking now? After so many times… ‘Course I’m clean, retard. I wouldn’t be engaging sex with you if I’m not.” Pause. “We always use condoms.” 

Louis slapped his elbow. “Don’t wanna hear the things you practice with Dallon.” 

He was embraced more tightly. “Okay. If that’s what you want, pretty boy.” 

Then he fell asleep. 

Years from now, he would realize that if only he were not faint-hearted and for the love of God, just be honest, this would actually have a different ending. 

END OF CHAPTER TEN


	11. Predicaments

_“Cause you were mine, for the summer_  
_Now we know it's nearly over_  
_Feels like snow in September_  
_But I always will remember_  
_You were my summer love_  
_You always will be my summer love.”_

\--One Direction, _”Summer Love”_

The Ross household was empty when Ryan and Louis arrived in Las Vegas by seven in the evening. Ryan said nothing except that maybe his mother was in a bridge tournament with her amigas or something. Again, the son had no phone to ring his mom that he would turn up that day. Alas, Louis was looking forward to meet the woman that gave birth to the bastard that was now rummaging through the refrigerator, in a kitchen so neat, of a house so old and speaking of staidness. 

The Brit took his surroundings and imagined the childhood and young adulthood Ryan had in that aged wooden white-painted house. Typical childhood probably. Tons of picture frames adored the fleur-de-lis wallpapers in the living room, some placed on the fireplace. A wedding picture as the centerpiece. Right beside it a family of three. On the other side a mother and her young son. Both taken in a professional studio. A toddler with his bicycle. The same child in pre-school, then elementary. A Christmas holiday. The child in middle school. High school prom. High school graduation. 

Louis was enjoying looking at those pictures. He barely noticed Ryan running from the kitchen to wrap his arms around him with a bottle of milk in one hand. The cold bottle tickled his side. He laughed softly. Ryan smacked his lips on the side of his head which caused Louis to laugh more. Then, he was let go. 

“I told her to tuck these all away,” Ryan motioned to the photographs. “Embarrassing. Might scare guests.” 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Louis said with a laugh. He shook his head. “She just loves you. Or misses you. Either way.” 

Ryan considered this. “Typical.” He gave Louis the cold beverage. As Louis drank, he ruffled the younger boy’s hair. He laughed his groans off and said, “Take a shower. The bathroom upstairs is right at the end of the hallway. You can change in my room; it’s the one on the left. I’ll just make a few calls, know mom’s whereabouts. Now off!” He pushed him gently. 

“I don’t have any clean shirts, left,” Louis grumbled. 

“Then go borrow one of mine’s.” Ryan laughed. “Now off. _Game of Thrones_ is on tonight.” 

After the quick shower, Louis was welcomed with more pictures in Ryan’s room. Albeit, the pictures were actually posters. Band posters. The Misfits, Queen, Ramones, Green Day, the usual stuff angsty adolescents of the past decade listen to. An old guitar was lying in a corner. Beside it, a shelf full of trophies and ribbons. Books lined the bottom shelf. They were from authors Louis was sure he had never heard of. A TV and the study desk were on the right side of the room, below the window. On one side, one photo in particular caught his attention. From the bedside table teenage Brendon and Ryan were smiling at him. He only stared at it for a while before he turned and looked for the closet. 

2 

Ryan was already in front of the television when Louis returned downstairs. Covered in a blanket and a tub of ice cream in his lap, it gave him a whimsical look of an overgrown child. He jumped on the spot next to him. Louis commented about how he didn’t want to watch replays of _Game of Thrones_ , and Ryan commented on the shirt he was wearing, how he didn’t like it very much that he offered it to Louis. 

“Cheers, man,” the Brit replied honestly. Finally, a remembrance from Ryan. 

After two more hours of watching shows, the two boys were already snuggling on the couch. Both were bone tired but neither was sleepy enough to call the night off. Ryan had told him beforehand that his mother was staying in her friend’s house for the night because, God didn’t forbid, there was an actual Bridge convention among old ladies and it would take up most of the weekend. The certainty that Louis would meet Mrs. Ross was low to none. They had less than a week before enlisment and, oh God, where has time gone? 

_Next summer_ , was what Ryan had told him. _You’ll come here again next summer. And I’ll visit with you in Doncaster this Christmas._

Louis began to say something (about the endless yapping of the neighbor’s dog, mostly) when the doorbell rang. He exchanged a look with Ryan then he glanced at the wall clock by the kitchen door. Ten o’ eight. 

Who could possibly be..? 

Ryan pushed himself up. “I’ll get it.” 

He watched him make the short distance between the couch and the foyer. From his seat, he would actually see the late guest. Ryan opened the door, and Louis saw a tall ( _huge!_ ) man he had seen before. He remembered the face before the name: Dallon Weekes. 

The newcomer stared at Ryan as if he couldn’t believe he was there. Then just as quickly he enclosed the house owner in bear hug. Ryan, who’s already tall (well, everybody’s tall in Louis’ opinion… being 5’4”)***, seemed suddenly small beneath the man’s arms. Dallon might have also taken the liberty to lock lips with Ryan right there and then if he didn’t look behind and saw Louis observing them with a tight expression. He let go of Ryan reluctantly. 

“Who’s that?” he snapped. 

Unlike Brendon, Dallon was unfriendly, and so Louis decided. He didn’t like him. He glared at him back. 

Ryan didn’t notice the growing animosity in the atmosphere and only proceeded to mock his friend. “Why, hello Ryan. Good evening. Nice to see you. I’m only dropping by. How’s the weather? Are you ready for next semester? Band practice, yadda yadda,” he screeched. “You could’ve said more things before asking me who Louis is.” 

“Louis?” Dallon tested the name in his tongue. “And he’s your..?” 

“Oh, good evening Ryan. I only came by – Ow!” he yelled when Dallon thumped his forehead. 

Louis just rolled his eyes. Sometimes, Ryan deserved getting that. 

“The fuck, man!” he groaned. 

“Are you done being a smartass?” Dallon demanded, still perplexed by Louis’ presence. 

“Not for you, bastard.” He walked back to where Louis was, mumbling and cursing all the way. He slumped down heavily. Dallon just stood by close, still staring Louis with wary and accusing eyes. 

The newcomer was wearing suspenders over a dress shirt and for a moment Louis wondered where he was before he causally dropped by to the Ross household. 

“Ryan…” Dallon started again. 

“Hmm?” 

He couldn’t voice his inquiries about Louis now, lest he would irritate his friend more. Louis knew. 

“I… have been contacting you all summer. You weren’t getting in touch. I was worried.” 

“We got robbed in Long Island. An asshole stole our phones.” 

“Yes. No. I mean, yeah. Brendon told me so. He said you were in Denver three weeks ago?” 

Three weeks ago? Has it been that long? 

“Yeah. I just had to see the fiancée,” Ryan replied noncommittally. “So you knew why I haven’t contacted you.” 

Dallon shifted on his feet. “What I was trying to relay was, how _worried_ I was when I didn’t know your whereabouts or how you were doing.” 

The boy in question smiled at his friend. Louis couldn’t see it but he knew it was bright and was just so _Ryan_. 

“You shouldn’t be. I’m far too young to die.” 

A frown fell on Dallon’s lips. “Don’t say it like that.” He nodded towards Louis. “Are you finally going to tell me who that boy is? He’s wearing the shirt I gave you.” 

“It’s ugly as fuck, anyway. You don’t even know the difference between _Gundam_ and _Evangelion_. I hate you.” 

“Who is he? Isn’t he going to talk?” 

Ryan faced Louis with a mischievous smirk. “Of course, he’s going to talk. Talk, Lou.” 

“I’m not a dog. Fuck you,” Louis spat. Ryan laughed at that and tousled his hair. Louis was fighting him off. 

Dallon took note of this easy exchange and he scowled deeper. He stepped up and made Ryan scoot over so he could sit with them on the couch. He patted Ryan’s thigh. 

“Louis, introduce yourself to my friend!” 

“I don’t wanna.” 

Shaking his head mirthfully, Ryan turned to face his friend. “This is Louis Tomlinson. Attends our Uni. Patrick Stump’s cousin. He’s being my company this summer. I promised to take him to LA, where I am sure to face the inevitable _adorable_ anger of Patrick for taking his cousin away without his permission. Man, have you seen Patrick angry? _Politely_ cute as fuck, I’m telling you. Anyway, you don’t remember Louis? But I could have sworn you saw him before?” 

Dallon looked at him blankly for a second. “And how did you decide to take him with you in your..?” 

“Oh, long story. I don’t want to bother you with the details. Suffice to say that it’s been the best summer of my life. Wouldn’t you say so, Louis?” 

Louis ducked his head to hide the blush. 

“How about you, Dallon? How’d you know I’m here?” 

“Your mom called me. She thought I ought to know. I was at the pad. Gabe is throwing a party.” 

“Did you tell them I’m here?” 

“Only Bilvy. Do you want to come? They’re still at it.” 

“No,” Ryan replied softly. “It’s kind of late. I mean, it is late. And we’re absolutely pooped. Thanks for stopping by, anyway. You must be needed there. Go.” 

Dallon looked around uncomfortably, looking for an excuse to stay. Both of them noticed it and Ryan was ready to give in which greatly annoyed Louis. 

“You really missed me that much, huh?” 

Instead of answering, Dallon had his nose in the air. “You stink.” 

“Well I haven’t exactly taken a bath yet. Thanks for reminding me, Dal. I like Louis more, though. He didn’t complain about my smell. What a sweet boy. What’s your problem?” again, he was off the couch and, before they knew it, he was making his way upstairs and kept on talking. “I’ll go take a shower. Get to know each other, will you? I’ll bet you’ll like each other.” His voice drifted away. 

Nope. As if. Louis kept his eyes glued to the telly in front. 

“How’d you know Ryan?” Dallon asked in a ginger tone. 

He gave a shrug. “Long story.” 

“Bull.” 

Jesus Christ. Didn’t Ryan tell him that they are just fuck buddies? Why was the bastard act like his obsessed boyfriend? 

Louis grunted. “Morning of the battle of the bands. Train station. Introduction. He asked me to come with him. Here we are. The end.” 

“Pretty concise,” Dallon commented mordantly, then as if to himself, “Just like that? That dick won’t really think with his brain.” 

Quiet. 

“Where has he taken you?” 

“I can’t be bothered to rehash.” 

Quiet. 

“I want specifics.” 

“Ask him yourself.” 

Quiet. 

“What are you and Ryan?” Louis asked. 

A grimace. “Ask him yourself.” 

Silence. 

“Why don’t you go back to your party?” 

“Mind your own business.” 

“Ryan’s my business.” 

“Like hell he is. For all I care you’re just summer buddies. And summer is ending soon.” 

“And you’re only fuck buddies, yeah?” 

Both hit a nerve; both unready to back down. 

“Don’t expect something more from him,” Dallon gritted out. 

“I could give you the same advice.” 

“You don’t know anything.” 

“Neither do you.” 

“He’s just using you to forget Brendon.” 

“You both are. He told me. And why do you think he’s ‘using’ me? Aren’t you enough to make him for—” 

He was hauled up by the front of his shirt and was met with piercing, angry, blue, blue eyes. His feet barely touched the ground. 

“You son of a bitch,” the tall man seethed. 

Never had he been so insecure of his short stature than in that moment. “Let me go,” he bit out with all the venom he could muster. 

He was dropped back to the crocked seat with a sordid laugh from his now-sworn mortal enemy. Dallon sat with him again and they watched the show in a hostile, threatening, intimidating environment. That in itself was absurd, but they don’t want to let Ryan know they were fighting. 

“How are things going?” Ryan asked them mighty happy when he returned. He reclaimed his place between Dallon and Louis. He smelled like soap; clean and fresh. 

“Fine,” Louis answered. 

“We’re getting along,” lied Dallon as well. 

“Nice.” 

Nothing was heard except the mindless shows played. Dallon had pulled Ryan close to his side, arm draped around the shoulder, and Louis was struggling not to strangle them both. 

He yawned. 

A soft chuckle caused him to look quickly to his left. Ryan was watching him. Amused. Louis was suddenly self-conscious. 

The older man reached out a finger and poked Louis’ cheek. “Go to sleep, Tommo. You’re tired.” 

“What about you?” He didn’t like the idea of leaving him with his nemesis. 

“Nah. I’d like to catch up on some news with my friend here. Right, Dal?” he was answered with a grunt. “Anyway, you can take my room. I’ll take this couch.” 

“What about him?” Louis asked. 

“What about you, Dal?” he looked up fondly to the guy. “What are your plans for the night?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Great. See you in the morning, Lou.” 

The Brit couldn’t do anything more other than obey. He went upstairs, utterly defeated. How dense could Ryan be? Couldn’t he see that Dallon (somehow) fell in love with him even with (despite) their silly arrangements? 

3 

He only slept for about three hours more or less. Louis woke up at two in the morning, feeling thirsty. 

Looking up the ceiling, there was panic that set in first. There was always panic for every awakening in the past months; unknowing where he was, his brain racking where did he and Ryan managed to find a sleeping place, what time zone he was in, what day was it. It would take a while before he could calm himself down. 

With a toss of feet in the air, he swung himself from the bed and walked aimlessly down the hallway. Upon reaching the stairs, he stopped. Downstairs was now dark save for the light outside coming in through the windows. He could hear voices from the den. Dallon’s. Ryan’s. 

Very carefully, he padded down the steps and paused at the landing to listen. Fuck, why did it feel like he was being through the wringer right there and then? 

_Oh my fucking God. Don’t tell me they are—_

A soft laugh broke. Ryan. 

An angry grunt butted in. Dallon. 

“Will you keep quiet? If that Brit of yours heard us—” 

“Or maybe he already had? Louis, are you there?” he asked with too much delight for Louis’ liking. 

“I said shut up, Ry.” 

Louis was about to retreat when they talked again. Serious stuffs. Maybe, they weren’t having a snookie, after all. Against his better judgment, Louis eavesdropped. 

“Gabe told me that he heard from Jon you are planning to form a new band.” 

“It was Jon that proposed the idea to me.” 

“Are you leaving Panic, then?” 

No miss of beat. “Yes. I have thought of it all summer. I want a restart.” 

“Suppose I come with you?” 

“We got a bass player. His name’s Jon, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

Silence. Shuffling. Some panting. What? Were they really not fucking? 

“I don’t like him,” Dallon mumbled. 

“Who? Jon?” Ryan was trying to be bashful but he’s become breathless now. 

“Louis.” 

Louis rolled his eyes. _The feeling is mutual, mate._

“God, but I like him.” 

“Who is he, Ryan?” 

“His ex is an asshole. Dumped him for a girl and is getting married now. I saw the pompous dick myself. Really, Louis could have done better.” 

“So you only feel sorry for the guy?” 

“No, not really. I like him. He made me choose.” 

“What?” 

“Between him and Brendon, he made me choose. You should’ve seen us in Denver. He made me realize what an airhead I am. Though I doubt he knows how he did that. He’s efficacious like that. Resolute kid. I like him from the start. Did you know? The first time I saw him, I thought I was looking at myself.” 

In the silence that followed, Louis wondered what Dallon did to make Ryan shut up. Maybe he should better retreat; it was a private matter after all, conversations and actions and all. It, the silence, was broken with the sound of smacking lips. 

“I love you,” Dallon said so softly that Louis wasn’t sure if he heard it right. But the place was so quiet that even that soft confession could never be mistaken for anything else. 

Ryan didn’t reply. (Or maybe he did, with an action?) Louis only heard him mutter afterwards, “You know I can never get used to talking about feelings during sex. Not when you’re literally inside of me. Just take me to paradise, Weekes.” 

The unmistakable rocking of the couch followed. 

Retreat! Retreat! 

Louis ran back upstairs, and made a commotion of it perhaps, because he heard Ryan laugh. “I told you he’s awake. Hi, Louis!” 

4 

He found both Ryan and Dallon in the morning after ( _morning? It was eleven_ ) gathered in the kitchen table, idly seeping from their coffee cups and sharing a plate of bacon and eggs. Late for breakfast, Louis wasn’t the only one who slept behind time. Well, duh, what with they were doing last night. _Stupid fuckers… in every sense of the word._

“Morning, Lou,” Ryan greeted with a lazy smile. Beside him Dallon had a triumphant look. 

_Shitty arseholes._

Louis only grumbled in response to Ryan’s greeting and went straight to find tea. He was still fighting to keep his eyes open. He had spent the wee hours before he fell asleep thinking how he should handle the Ryan-Dallon situation and how should he feel about it. Was he hurt that Ryan engaged in coitus with someone else while still with him? Yep, you betcha. There was still hope that, even with that, Louis was still the special one in Ryan’s eyes. There was still time and places to go and promises to keep. But the logical part of him won over. They only started this journey to recover, not to fall in love with each other. And he hated it. He hated it. He hated it! 

_Summer is going to end soon and fast, and they’ll be gone from each other’s lives despite all of their promises. Louis moved on from Harry, Ryan from Brendon, and there is no need to take more medicine._

He hated it more because he thought he has fallen prey to love again. He hated it that he thought Ryan was feeling the same. He was such a naïve, wasn’t he? 

So how should he handle this? Keep cool, that’s how. Pretend it was fine and dandy. If Ryan liked him too, the bastard would make a move. If it would take too long, Louis would tell him how he feels. 

_“This too shall pass…”_

The despondent boy joined them then in the table. Dallon was ignoring him while Ryan talked about the bachelor pad he’d told before. His friends were crashing there, almost boarding the place. They had been kicked out by their parents from their basements and Ryan (regrettably) offered the pad. Now Gabe was throwing a party over there almost every night and it was religiously unkempt. But what the hell, friends are forever. 

Ryan wanted to take Louis there and introduce him to some of his friends before they continue to LA. Louis began to say that he didn’t have to but Ryan reasoned that it was only fair considering he met some of Louis’ in Denver. 

“They are not my friends,” Louis answered petulantly. “I mean, Liam and Niall, sure. But the rest? I’d rather die.” 

Now came the queasy smile Louis knew and loved. “Nah. I have a feeling you’ll be friends with them again. Even Harry.” 

Louis scowled. “I hate when you’re onto your prophetic bull-talk.” 

With Dallon’s car, they went to a neighboring subdivision at one in the afternoon. They arrived at the pad (a messy, messy place with empty beer bottles, empty food wrappers and empty clothes thrown all around) and were welcomed with loud amplified instruments. 

“Band practice,” was Ryan’s only brief explanation. 

A dozen or so boys (he could see three girls though in a corner) gathered in the garage. Four boys were indeed strumming the guitars and banging the drums and singing songs (“ _Imagine living like a king someday!_ ”) and the rest were walking around by the pool, drinking cold beer under the hot sunlight. 

Upon their entrance, Ryan and Dallon were both immediately grabbed by a pale, brunette man. Louis was later told that the man was the Gabe they were talking about. Louis was introduced to the lot. He got their names which he immediately forgot after they were spoken. They were all from different college bands that somehow evolved into a community. The guys playing right now, they were Pierce the Veil and they were scouted and they were going to get signed up and, according to Gabe, were going to sell out. The party last night was thrown for them. 

When Louis was introduced to a guy with thick-rimmed glasses who named himself as William standing by the cue pool, he smiled. 

“Bill?” he guessed. 

William laughed. “Bilvy, actually.” 

It was he who Louis stuck to the rest of the afternoon while Gabe paraded Ryan around. 

“You’re the Brit Brendon talked about? The one Ryan was with in Denver?” William asked him. 

“I guess I am,” he replied sheepishly. 

“Oh. How’s it been? I think it’s the first time Ryan brought someone with him in the summer.” 

So Louis told him the meeting in the train station and the reason he was traveling with him. He told him Fourth of July and Vietnam and Sioux. He told him of Harry. And he told him of LA. In turn, William told him what he knew about Ryan (“ _But don’t tell him I told you. Promise that. He’s still too sensitive of the topic. But I think it’s important you know_.”). The summer getaways began on his first year in Uni, right when his father died. No one knows when Ryan would stop, if he would. The point was, the boy is running away every time somebody leaves him behind. The second time – the second summer he left – was due one night – in April, on Brendon Urie’s birthday celebration. William only heard that Ryan waited and waited for Brendon outside a frat house; he finally was ready to commit to a relationship. But Brendon, by then, was done waiting for this decision and he met Sarah. And so the great Ryan Ross ran away again. 

William quieted to let Louis get that information in his confounded noddle. 

“Sounds reasonable,” was what Louis managed to say after a long while. Bilvy laughed. 

“He’s a good friend,” he trailed off. “He’s just sad.” 

“He is,” Louis agreed. He yelped when he felt a sudden weight on his back and someone was breathing on his ear. 

“Hi, Lou,” Ryan monotoned. “Is Bilvy giving you good company?” 

The Brit only whimpered in response. 

“Did Gabe ask for your hand yet?” William asked his friend. 

Ryan made a gurgling noise. “He’s giving me a headache, that shithead. Besides, he is yours, and this boy is mine. So back off.” 

William frowned. “I’m not doing anything to him. And aren’t you and Dallon fucking? For the love of God, don’t get Dallon’s hopes up. Don’t mess with Dallon’s mind again. I couldn’t handle him when you were gone.” 

“Make him cry a river.” 

“Ry, you’re such an ass sometimes. Stop dancing around with him. If this is about making sure that his feelings are genuine—” 

“Keep talking out of your ass.” 

William was about to retort when suddenly the rest of his friends were joining them by the pool. Dallon was especially glowering at the sight of Ryan embracing Louis from behind. They interviewed Louis like he was an adorable toddler lost in a crowd. They found out his connections and so the conversation turned to how talented Pete Wentz, Gerard Way and Patrick Stump were, and what an awful lost that The Chemical Fall Out died, how annoying that Mikey Way and Pete won’t play anymore after their two vocalists left, and how no other band in their community were like that band. 

“Cheers to good men,” Gabe said and they all agreed. To Louis he asked, “Are you playing music too? Because I have this idea for a new album and I kind of need someone who could get me fangirls.” 

“And you’re saying we’re going to sell out,” Vic, the vocalist of Pierce the Veil, quipped. 

“Shut the fuck up! I just have this idea, okay? Somehow involving handsome rugged boys but still an idea!” 

“Keep convincing yourself, Saporta. I’ll rip your head off should I detect the onset of _your_ selling out.” 

“Lewis?” Gabe looked at him hopefully. 

“I don’t actually play anything.” 

“Bull. Don’t listen to him,” Ryan chimed in, still clinging from Louis’ back. “He played the piano in a coffee shop somewhere in Bozeman. Has a decent voice, too. I was taken to the heavens.” 

Louis had never personally seen someone’s eyes twinkle, only read it in books, but that moment was it. Gabe was looking at him as if he is God. “I will marry you.” 

“Umm… no?” 

Gabe looked hurt but only momentarily. Louis was sure he was just joking anyway. At around five in the afternoon, Ryan and Louis were set up to leave the place. They both thank the people that were there, said their hopes of seeing them next week, the start of a new semester. Louis never got in touch with any of them in the days and years to come. He never really knew them. There was a slight ‘what-if’ sometimes but other than that, they were not missed. 

5 

“Dallon is in love with you,” Louis said with a grin as they pass by the city lights. It was getting cold. Autumn was starting soon. “Did you know that? Everybody knows. Even I could tell. You see it too, don’t you?” 

Ryan didn’t look at him, didn’t answer him. 

“Have you discussed this with him properly?” 

A shake of head. 

“How are you going to handle that?” 

He reached for his hand and held on tightly. Louis welcomed it. 

“Are you going to try… again… with him?” Louis held back a tear. “Just imagine. When you are old with him, and you’re children are going to ask how the two of you did fell in love… and you will say you were enemies turned lovers. Wouldn’t it be nice or what? It’s cute, I will fucking vomit.” 

Louis saw Ryan smile, as if fond of the idea. 

“You never told me about him, Ry. Not one time this summer.” 

He thought Ryan wouldn’t answer but there was a mumble. “Because I don’t see him that way. We’re just fuck buddies, after all. There’s no reason for him to need me that much. I’m just a fuck-up. We were fine. I want uncomplicated, easy. Now he had to ruin it by adding feelings.” 

“You also feel something for him, don’t you?” 

“Louis, don’t be—” 

“No,” he interrupted with a firm shake of a head, heart buckling a lot. “Don’t get my hopes up. Honestly, I don’t need that. Just be true to yourself and I’ll be fine.” 

The older man nudged his elbow. “I was going to say… that I’m not sure myself. A future with that lanky brat? Ugh. Fucking bullshit. We’re only using each other. Why couldn’t it be you? Why does this keep happening to me?” 

Despite himself, Louis laughed. Because of the joke and also the irony. The truth, too. After Brendon, it was not Louis immediately. Dallon was there first. He fell for Ryan too. Possibly even admitted it to him before this summer began. Problem was, Ryan was not over Urie and he couldn’t reciprocate it. Or maybe he could but he was just a coward to face the truth. Either way, Ryan was using Louis as well, right? Why didn’t the boy fall in love with him instead? Dallon was never invited to Ryan’s summer escapades. And according to the experts around, Louis was special because he was the first one invited. So why? Why with someone Louis barely knew. And yet he had to dismiss the thought that he’s been entirely used, because he used Ryan too. They both used each other; only such a shame that Louis was not the first to get there. Nevertheless Louis had to set aside his grudges, right? Because first and foremost, Ryan was now a friend. And as a friend, Louis had to look over him and make him realize where his best intentions should lie. 

After a good while, he leaned in and rested his head on his shoulder. “Are our next summer plans still available?” he asked quietly. 

“Of course. Of course.” 

Liar. 

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN


	12. Priorities

_“And look at you and me still here together_   
_There is no one knows you better_   
_And we’ve come such a long long way_   
_Let’s put it off for one more day_   
_And everybody knows where this is heading_   
_Forgive me for forgetting_   
_Our hearts irrevocably combined”_

\--DeVotchKa, _Till The End Of Time_

An uneventful downpour caused Ryan and Louis to stop by an outdoor roof of a second hand bookstore. They were in California then, less than twenty miles to Patrick and Gerard’s apartment. It was a Saturday, Louis reckons now. They would have the weekend to travel back to Massachusetts, get some rest before enlistment of classes, before another semester of books and reports and tuition fees and professors and grades. Louis definitely was not eager for all of that. Neither with the thought of returning. Oh, the celerity of the impending doom that is college education. If only he could be on the road forever. 

Ryan’s stomach grumbled. They exchanged a sheepish grin to each other. Nothing else was said. After LA, things had been a little awkward between them. The flicker in the beginning that caused their closeness and codependency was dying out. Why? Because they were nearing the end. But _why_? Why did it have to be that way. Louis didn’t want that. He wanted to say something – about the weather probably or how surprise Patrick and Gerard would be – but he didn’t know how he could get them out without sounding forced and out of depth. 

Minutes passed and they were sure the rain wouldn’t stop anytime soon. If anything the wind was keeping up. Consequently, they went through the bookstore’s door and entered a world of books old, yellow and used. The young man behind the counter glanced once at them before wordlessly going back to his magazine. 

Idly running his hand through a shelf in the education section, his attention was ultimately caught by a picture catalogue. Pictures of Europe it said. Then Louis remembered. He wanted to be a photographer. Then and there, he wanted to check the pictures he captured these past months (times when got a hold of the camera before Ryan; they were always racing for it every morning). He wanted to see if those were good. Damn hell if they could make a good series. Maybe he could submit them to a publisher. Nah. He didn’t feel like sharing it to the whole world, anyway. Too cheesy. He abandoned the book and went to look for Ryan. 

“Curse my luck. I got no money left.” Ryan bemoaned over a graphic novel. Unlike the others, books in this section were still in mint and/or fairly good condition. “Louis, what should I do?” 

He shrugged. “Try sour-graping. It always works with me.” 

Ryan scoffed. “How could you even sour-grape _Haruhi Suzumiya_?” 

“The fact that it’s Haruhi Suzumiya? Come on, it wasn’t even _that_ good. Everybody knows that.” 

The older lad had his eyes narrowed. “Oh, you son of a bitch.” 

There followed a nonsensical debate. Ryan was truly passionate about defending his Haruhi-sama. On the other hand, Louis was just glad they were talking again. Honestly, he didn’t even take the debate seriously which angered Ryan more. 

In the end, though, the intellectual debate was useless. They purchased nothing, and that was a given considering that they’re broke as fuck. They had only wanted amusement for a moment. The rain stopped and clouds revealed the sun. It was hot again. Fuck climate change. Well, they had to leave. The counter boy, who watched their earlier debate about an anime god and who appeared wanting to weed them out of the place, was now suspicious of them and demanded outright that he check their backpacks before they got a chance to walk away from the store. The nerve of the brat. 

Discomfort returned full force when they were back on the streets. They were too far apart when they were walking on the sidewalks. Ryan was keeping his eyes up ahead, not bothering any conversation. Their banter in the bookstore was immediately forgotten. Louis couldn’t take it anymore. He reached for the bastard’s hand. The bastard was taken by surprise but it was Louis’ turn to keep his eyes on the road and practically drag the stupefied boy along. Ryan moved along. 

More silence. Louis still didn’t know how to fill in the gaps and he was getting more and more frustrated by the second. 

_Oh, for heaven’s sake._

Ryan yelped in pain and that was what pulled Louis from his angry thoughts. He had gripped Ryan’s hand too tight. 

“What’s your problem?” Ryan asked. 

“You were not being loquacious enough,” Louis blurted out. It was deathly embarrassing to be honest, but he just recovered from his angry stream of thoughts and he was still not thinking clearly and so no one could possibly blame him or sue him. He caught himself, however, and he avoided Ryan’s questioning gaze. 

“What?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Fuck you. You’re the one who’s quiet the whole time! What would you want me to say? Well, what do you want us to talk about?” 

“Nothing,” Louis repeated. Ryan was expecting something. “Forget it. I’m being silly. Can we just go?” 

_“Dude.”_

“I don’t want summer to end,” Louis opened up. He stuttered. “Not because I want to be with you always on the road. I just love the heat and meeting new people, going to new places. Extremely not because of you.” 

Ryan was looking at him as if he’s the world’s biggest idiot. “Classy,” he said. He shrugged. “Though you hurt my feelings. I thought I’m special to you. Into your weird mood swings again?” 

That was a joke from Ryan’s end. The fact that that was true made Louis’ ears bleed. 

“We have the next summer. We got plans, tons of it. What are you worried about?” 

_That it will never happen in reality?_

“Anyway summer is ending. There’s nothing we can do about it, can we? What do you about it?” 

“Run away. Off to places I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I could do it. If you can, so can I.” 

“Yeah? But why would you? There are people out there irrevocably wanting to be with you all the time. You’re always wanted. They don’t want to see you go.” 

Louis groaned. “Oh, for the love of everything that is breathing, will you please cut your wise word shit?” 

Ryan laughed in delight. “Seriously, Louis. I think it would be proper for you if—” 

“For the love of everyone still believing that DCU can still be saved, will you please—” 

“Are we having a serious talk or not?” Ryan cut sharply. Louis’ stomach dropped. Was this the first time he had seen him this annoyed? “You said you want to talk but you’re behaving like a child. You are being childish, just like always.” 

Louis was speechless. 

“But you’re right,” Ryan said with a sigh, although Louis didn’t say anything. He looked around the street and watched all the people _everywhere_. “This is the right time to talk about us. What are we, Louis? What are we going to do with each other? What will happen? Why are you slipping away? We need to talk about that, right? Because I can’t be the only one losing my mind. Because I want you to be part of my life but I can’t picture you with me, it’s shit!” he calmed himself and looked away. Louis was holding his breath. “This isn’t a good place to have this kind of discussion. Let’s go.” He held out a hand for Louis to take. “You’re cousin would be pleasantly surprised.” 

Louis couldn’t think. 

2 

Patrick answered on the first buzz and when he saw them, Louis swore he his dear cousin was going to faint. Didn’t happen though; he was crushed in a tight embrace. 

“Gee! Gerard! Get in here. Look who’s arrived!” Patrick exclaimed as he pulled Louis by the hand and leads him inside a pretty sizeable apartment. Ryan followed close. 

A man with long shaggy hair looked up from his laptop in the den and regarded them with curious glance. Not Gerard. 

Gerard came from a room in nothing but shirt and boxers, which was odd because it was four in the afternoon. What was even more odd was the fact that his hair was now jet black instead of the bloody red Louis loved. Gerard’s face broke into a small smile upon seeing his _other_ baby brother. “Louis. What took you so long?” He gave him a one-armed embrace. He shook Ryan’s hand in lieu of greeting the other man. 

“You had us worried!” Patrick exclaimed. “I thought you’re never going to make it. I thought you died or got abducted by terrorists! Explain yourself.” 

“Well… kind of a long story…” 

“Then hush. Let’s talk it over tea. How would you like iced tea? Come. That’s Ray, by the way. Ray Toro.” The shaggy-haired man raised his hand in a Star Trek salute. “Divorce lawyer. He owns the firm you probably passed by in the first floor. We met him on Facebook. How are you? Ryan Ross, right? Good? How’s Spencer?” He almost skipped just to prepare the table and the beverages. 

Louis could see it now. Patrick Stump, the mother hen of the old apartment house around the corner of Harvard, always the one who gets up the latest in the morning and is slightly irresponsible in life but more responsible than any of them combined, becoming a real happy housewife and mothering possibly three plus children, then politely entertaining visitors. It won’t suit Patrick because the guy doesn’t like constancy and he wants to move around every time, but Louis picture him like that just the same. 

Louis fell ungracefully to a chair. His hips were screaming in pain. At least these damn body aches would be over soon. 

Ryan occupied the seat beside him while Gerard sat across from them. He spread a newspaper across his lap while sipping mindlessly the coffee Patrick prepared (Now, Louis could see Gerard being the content husband to Patrick’s happy wife; the man trifling his hours away while Trick cook meatloaf, peppering the wife kisses maybe every now and then, carrying the three plus children on his skinny shoulders – Gerard doesn’t fit that stereotype either. He likes staying in the house and cooking for himself. Something was wrong with Louis’ usually _realistic_ imagination). Patrick finally settled beside his other half after presenting them their refreshments. 

Louis didn’t know if he was just imagining it, but Patrick and Gerard already looked so much different from whence he saw them last three months back. Was that possible? They looked older, much more mature… they looked like proper adults. Louis had half-dreaded coming here, because here signifies the end. Now he was in that wooden apartment that could have come straight from a sitcom and here he was confronted with _changes_. 

“It’s a nice place you got in here,” Louis commented. 

“Thank you.” Patrick smiled. “Do you want to call Jay? I bet she’s worried sick.” 

“In a while,” Louis said. “Babe, let the boy rest first,” Gerard chided. Gerard never referred to him as a boy. 

Patrick was laughing. “Oh, God. I must be so embarrassing. I was… I was just worried about you, Lou. And I missed you too. God, I missed every one of you in Uni.” He turned to Ryan. “Thank you for taking care of my cousin.” 

Ryan managed a smile. “No problem. It’s my responsibility for dragging him out here in the world in the first place.” 

“Was he a good boy?” 

“He’s a very, very good boy.” There’s a sexual undertone in there that Louis just couldn’t… 

“I’m still here, you numb fucks!” Louis said. Patrick looked scandalized by his curse words but Gerard seemed proud. 

“Atta boy,” he said. “You’ve been with a good influence, I see.” 

“I’m actually asking him if he could play with us. I heard him play the piano. He’s got potential,” Ryan was saying. “Might also be an interesting addition to the band Jon and I are forming.” 

“‘Band’? You’re going to leave Panic?” Patrick asks. “Why?” 

“Personal reasons. What do you say, Tommo?” 

“I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable onstage. And I’m not even that good—” 

“Nonsense. Stop that. Your modesty only makes you more adorable.” Louis frowned at him. 

“Yeah, he got that one from Trick,” Gerard conceded. Patrick looked confused. 

“Oh yeah, I agree,” Ryan said with dreamy eyes towards the redhead. “Patrick Stump: the epitome of adorable. I’ve heard a lot about you. Will you go out with me?” 

“Back off, asshole. He’s mine,” Gerard gritted out. “Tell him, Pattycakes.” 

Patrick did so but not without blushing red as a tomato. “I’m dating Gee.” 

And since when were they so vocal about their feelings for each other? Blimey, adulthood is shitting things up. Louis made a mental note not to graduate from Uni at all. The things he will do! 

“Worth a try,” Ryan said. 

“When did this happen?” Louis asked. “Thank God. Andy would be so proud. Though I can only imagine the bollocking Pete gave you,” he said to Gerard, “when you asked for his blessing.” 

Patrick shook his head. “No. Pete was easy. It was Mikey who interrogated me. Actually threatened to plant me on the ground and then make a briar from the roots that will grow from my body.” He smiled a little to the Brit’s surprised reaction. “I know, right?” 

“Mikey is overprotective,” Gerard said of his brother. “Anyway, what are your plans, the two of you? When will you fly back to Cambridge? It said online that registration is on Thursday.” 

“W-we’d like to start our way back on Monday. We’ll take the train,” Louis answered. 

“We can get you plane tickets, you know,” Patrick offered. “It saves more time and energy.” 

Louis and Ryan exchanged a look. “Thanks, Trick. But the train will do just fine. You can get us train tickets. I’ll pay for it sometime in this lifetime. Take note of it in your ledger book.” 

3 

Louis called his mother. He was crying by the end; he missed his mother so and Lottie who will start college soon, Fizzy who got a new pair of ballet shoes, and Daisy and Phoebe who just graduated from summer camp. He was ecstatic when he learned his mother was expecting a new set of twins. “There should be a boy in there!” he exclaimed. 

Patrick bombarded him with more news. There was that heartrending time during which they couldn’t contact Louis, that Patrick and Gerard flew back to Cambridge to take care of an overdosed Pete. “It was July,” Patrick said. “Mikey called us, said Pete was onto his spells again. He was worried he might gain access to Ativan. We flew immediately. By the time we got there, Pete was already in the hospital. Doctors were pumping the pills out of his system.” Louis swore he would punch the living daylights out of Pete when he returns; why was the bastard always making him worry? 

There was also news that Mikey will continue to pursue music with another band while Pete stated he could write songs every now and then but would otherwise stick to his academic books instead. Andy was somewhere in Chicago and Frank was still in Cambridge, packing his things for Doncaster. 

Patrick told him the day Gerard blurted out of nowhere his want to date and make out with Patrick. Patrick had been speechless and he just stared at Gee, open-mouth while the other man stared back blankly. They had stood like that for a long time; they had heard Ray coming back from work and they broke off the pointless staring with a shrug while Ray became more than convinced he was rooming with psychos. The next day, after work and with no words said, Gee and Trick dined in a restaurant and walked along the beach and talked about the silly Uni days when they couldn’t admit their affections for each other. 

In turn Louis told him everything. Patrick wanted to see the picture from Amityville. He laughed about his stay in Florida and commented about the niceties Steve Aoki offered in Ohio. He wept a little when he was reminded of his father’s stories of Vietnam. He clapped Louis’ shoulder as a reassurance when he learned all the events in Colorado. 

Louis asked him what does it feel like, graduating and renting a place and working your ass off and just be a full-grown adult. Patrick said it felt simple, a lot like just taking the next small step. 

4 

Louis watched a scene like this before. Katniss Everdeen sitting on the windowsill at the dead of the night while everyone in their floor sleep, everyone except for Peeta Mellark who was now talking to her and they made amateur observations about the world and their impending doom in the Hunger Games arena in the morrow. (And he knew that was a cheap-ass comparison – especially for him being more Battle Royale type of guy – but he had been feeling nostalgic lately. And Hunger Games and that kind-of-sad scene haunted him on his freshman days). Now it was Louis who was sat by the window at the dead of the night. Ryan was making his way towards him with two mugs of hot cocoa. Patrick and Gee were on their work shift in the hospital while Ray Toro was staying in his firm in the first floor working on a case. The rest of the world was in their most peaceful slumber. 

Louis was heedful of Ryan’s movements when the older bloke set one cup in front of him while he quietly sipped his. Louis watched him from the corner of his eyes and braced himself when Ryan placed his drink down. 

“So…” Ryan began. “What are our plans?” 

The Brit smiled at him. “We could begin with our goodbyes.” 

“D-do you think we can’t really work this out?” he motioned the two of them. 

“We could but… we weren’t really looking for a long-term friend when we first met. We just wanted to get away.” 

“Can’t we be friends?” 

“Perhaps. But…” 

“We’re each other’s medicine. Was it Michael’s girlfriend who said that?” 

“Dinah, I think?” 

Ryan brooded for a second. “Medicine? No. Stephen King worded it better. A Band-Aid. You dispose the Band-Aid after you made its use, I think that’s how the line went. Forgot what book.” When Louis shrugged, he asked. “I thought you read Stephen King?” 

“Yeah. But I’m not an encyclopedia.” 

“Do you suppose… do you suppose you will forget this summer?” Ryan asked vulnerably, after a long stretch of silence. 

“No. Little details perhaps but not you,” Louis insisted. “I’m almost falling for you, do you know that? Knee-deep now, I think. Fell in love. Again.” 

“We could be good together,” Ryan agreed. 

“Yes.” 

“But we don’t need each other anymore.” He paused and Louis felt a headache coming. “Perhaps if we met each other looking for an adventure and not healing, our feelings would have changed. Perhaps there would be no doubt about our future. As such, we have to be contented… and happy that we serve each other purpose.” 

“Will I see you around?” Louis asked quietly. 

“Nobody can know for sure. Will you be all right with that?” 

Louis nodded solemnly. 

“And our other future plans? They’re quite a handful as I remember. Will you be alright if none of those come into fruition?” 

“Perhaps. Some of them are impossible anyway. I sort of wanted the picturesque farm but I’ll be fine if I don’t get to have it. After all, you taught me to live by and get by.” Louis laughed. 

Ryan smiled. “Yeah. And you taught me to be rational and look forward to the future. And defiant, because that’s what you are.” 

“Oh! Damn well honored that I got to teach you something. I almost felt that I am not making an impression enough.” 

They shared an agreement in bitter amusement. Quiet. Ryan leaned forward and Louis closed his eyes and felt a pair of lips touch his forehead. 

“It is nice having you,” Ryan whispered against his temple. “I had fun. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Inside him, Louis agreed. It was nice meeting and having a new friend while it lasted. 

Then Ryan shuffled away. 

“Take a rest, Lou,” he said. 

“Later. I’ll stay here for a little more while.” 

The hot cup of cocoa dissolved its warmth, but Louis was still on the windowsill, feeling nostalgic. No tears were shed – tears of parting, tears of pain – no heartaches, no self-derogatory remarks, no perfidious feelings. Huh. Maybe he’s matured now. Also one of the things Ryan Ross taught him. 

5 

On the last day of summer, Louis found himself with his cousin, Gerard and Ryan in Santa Monica in the morning, the Hollywood walk of fame in the afternoon and the Hollywood sign in the evening. It was a day perfectly structured like any other last-days; nostalgia and promises. Ryan and Louis told them of their tours in museums, of Fourth of July in Florida, the 1920’s theme party in Denver. As if provoked, the two adults aimed to stump those adventures with an adventure with them. “The Bohemian Girl”, the play Louis was promised to, he found out, was not produced for a long time now. He sulked pretty mightily but he got over it soon. Gerard and Patrick made Louis promise to visit them and they in turn would visit him in Cambridge from time to time. 

The last day of summer, however enjoyable, met its conclusion. And of course. Nothing remains forever. Get on with it. Get by and live by… and just look forward for the next and the future. Louis understood it. 

The summer of tragedies and victory; of ‘ _Fuck America!_ ’ and ‘ _Vive le France!_ ’; of Disney, Las Vegas strip and the Hollywood Sign; of Benjamin Franklin’s whistles and Victor Hugo’s candlesticks; of heroes versus patriots; of anonymous artist’s landscape paintings and George and Lennie’s dream farm; of Green Day, Fourth of July, and 1920’s jazz; of bridge, RVs, ghostly photographs, birthday parties, fireworks; of cheap books and extravagant nights; of walking, bus rides and hitchhiking; of hundreds and hundreds of tombs and museums and memoirs; of sweet revenge and bitter endings; of newfound friends and newfound nemesis, even old friends and old enemies; of holding hands; of George and Bill… that summer had to conclude. 

It’s time to go home. 

It’s time for that summer to end. 

END OF CHAPTER TWELVE


	13. Projects

_“Kiss me hard before you go_  
_Summertime sadness_  
_I just wanted you to know_  
_That, baby, you're the best_  
_I got that summertime, summertime sadness.”_

\--Lana Del Rey, _Summertime Sadness_

“We just want more time and delay time,” was what Louis’ insistent explanation to Patrick and Gerard when they offered yet again plane tickets. They still offered even they were already seeing them off in the platform. They still didn’t understand but they let them off; they, who didn’t know about Ryan and Louis’ conversation, believing that Ryan and Louis were going to _try_ when they could see with their eyes that it would never work, believing that the boys’ relationship would be borne out of vindictive reasoning from being abandoned by someone they trusted, unknowing that Ryan and Louis already gave up. 

Patrick kissed him on the cheeks and Gerard made a stupid pun on “kissing cousins” but he gave Louis a kiss too. Ryan received a peck on the cheeks as well from his ‘beloved senpai’ while Gerard shook his hand. Then, they were on their journey home. 

If Louis was weeping on his seat, Ryan didn’t mind. He was emotional too. 

2 

The few days in the train was draining but the two boys made no comment about it. They were quiet for most of the time, contented themselves watching landscapes passed from their little window. Sometimes they would exchange anecdotes about the past months. They would share a laugh. A few words. Silence again. 

Passing Oklahoma, Ryan grumbled something under the sheets beneath Louis’ embrace. 

“Hmm?” 

“I said, my birthday is next week. August thirty.” 

“Oh.” In a day when Louis and Ryan _should_ stop acknowledging each other. “Happy birthday in advance, then,” he said simply. 

“Thanks.” 

In Ohio, both their minds were already occupied by the incoming academic year. Their plans were on the subjects and professors to take and the places they could work part-time in. 

They stepped off in Cambridge on Thursday with heavy hearts. Louis’ mind was on a loop: _thisisit, thisistheend, neveragain, thisisit, thisistheend, neveragain_. Louis was just tired. 

“So,” the chorused. They laughed at that. Louis couldn’t look at him. 

“This is it, huh?” Ryan asked lamely. 

Louis nodded. 

“I’ll see you when I see you? We don’t have to be awkward around each other if that happens. We can always talk.” Pause. “Louis, look at me.” 

Louis did, and was met with a bright smile. 

“Let’s make a bet, shall we?” Ryan asked, heart-filled with new mischievous determination. “I bet we will see each other again without one of us seeking the other. Bet on that?” 

God, they didn’t get to plan any of these. He’s really shitty with farewells. “That’s stupid,” he commented with a dry laugh. “B-but I get what you’re driving at.” 

“Yes?” 

“Yeah. I definitely won’t come looking for you.” 

“I’m counting on that. It makes things uncomplicated.” He looked around uncomfortably. Louis could see he wanted to escape. Louis wanted to hold on for a little longer. 

“Ryan.” 

The older boy directed his eyes at him. He looked so sad. 

Louis squared his shoulders. “I’m ready.” 

Ryan blinked then leaned forward and caught his lips. His lips were trembling. Louis pressed closer, changing his mind again: _No! I’m not all set for this! I don’t want this to end_. He tried to chase Ryan’s lips when the other drew back with hesitance, but Ryan held him back firmly by the shoulders. 

“I love you,” Louis finally declared, pouring his heart out, hoping against hope that it changes something. Because it’s true and it was so unfair. 

There was a flicker of surprise on Ryan’s end. Louis watched his expressions and imprinted them on his memory. Ryan shook his head, bit the inside of his cheek, then hung his head. When he looked back up he was sadder than ever. “I’m sure there is somebody waiting for you,” he said. 

And oh. Louis began to tear up and laugh. “I really hate your prophetic bull-talk.” 

Ryan laughed with him. Then he gave a final peck on Louis’ lips. Then they separated ways, his back was the last thing Louis saw of him, and he cried half-way home. 

3 

He felt old when he stalked the familiar streets of Harvard leading to his apartment; old and alienated. Three months away and as if he didn’t know the place at all. It felt like years. Would Patrick and Gerard feel this way when they visit in the future? He dreaded this feeling. 

He made his way to the two-storey apartment house, his home away from home. He opened the door, and there Pete turned his head around from the kitchen table, thunderstruck with his arrival. Louis smiled at him shyly. “Hi, Pete.” 

“Oh. Fuck. Me. Jesus.” Pete rose from his chair and ran to give Louis a hug. “What happened to you, man? How are you? What took you so long? Mikey’s gonna lose his mind, I’m telling you.” 

Louis laughed it all off. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m stinking though. Think I’m gonna head for a shower first then we’ll talk, yeah?” 

He laid his backpack in a corner of his now-dusty room (he will curse Pete and Mikey later on for not even bothering to extend their cleaning powers to this 7mx5m place). He embraced the torn sleeping bag and cried on it. He looked sadly on his laptop. He found his camera’s memory card slipped in his folded camera strap; but the camera itself wasn’t there. He laughed out loud. “Ryan, you one smarmy git.” 

In the evening, the remaining three gathered in the dinner table and talked about the three months past. It took a while before he was comfortably head-filled with familiar warmth, and Louis knew everything was at their right place again. 

4 

The semester started like any other semesters. It always started in a hurry with finding subjects, making a mad dash to the bookstores, immediately forgetting the previous break of relaxation. And so Louis tried. But there came a delivery in the Monday of the next week. When Louis came home from class (August 30, 2015 – he remembered), his luggage that he remembered he left in an apartment in Back Bay were there and Mikey was explaining that Jon Walker delivered them earlier. A birthday card, which the Brit purchased in the morning that he planned to get to Ryan through Pete or anyone who knows where Ross was staying, was neatly tucked instead between the pages of Stephen King’s _Desperation_. 

Frank was coming and going. Minor difficulties with clearance, he explained. But, God willing, he would settle this before the month ends and he’ll be off to England where his job was waiting. On his latest trip from the campus to their apartment, he brought Liam with him. He had convinced his younger brother to move in with his friends. 

Ashton Irwin and Calum Hood, who approached him almost immediately when they saw him in Organic Chemistry, was also invited to move in when Louis learned they were evicted from their dormitory due to unsettled accounts. They agreed in an instant. Pete was just a tad bit too happy to take “new music students” under his wing. He told them the story how he took in Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie before, and look how they turned out. Louis just smiled in the background. Pete proclaimed that he will be Ashton and Calum’s father. He pulled Mikey from his room and exclaimed to the two confused boys, “This is your Mommy Mikey! Respect him!” Mikey kicked his ribs so hard. 

Pete threw all his pills away. Louis and Mikey and he watched as they were flushed in the toilet. 

Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford became constant visitors then, because their bandmates were in the house and Louis was reminded of a certain bachelor pad in Las Vegas. Not that he minded. 

Louis saw Harry’s back twice in the library. He would have approached the latter, except he saw there was no need to. It was better off this way, he thought. Niall, on the other hand, visited Liam every chance he got. He often took Liam away to hang out someplace else. 

On Frank’s last weekend in Boston (finally he settled his affairs), Louis felt bold and asked him on a date. At first Frank was unsure. He kept muttering, “Your cousin will kill me.” In the end, they found themselves in a shite diner where Ashton was working. 

“I used to have this big crush on you,” Louis confessed, not embarrassed in the slightest. Why not? The next time he might see Frank again would be years and, well, he had to come clean, yeah? 

Frank laughed. “We could tell. You were that obvious.” 

“And do you mind?” 

“What? Have you seen yourself in the mirror, Lou? It’s an honor that you have a crush on me. I would have asked you out before but Pattycakes threatened to castrate me should I lay one finger on you.” 

Louis giggled. Feeling bold again, he asked Frank for a kiss before the night ended. Frank was a good kisser. 

A month passed before Louis afforded a new phone from his job in the college department. His thesis adviser’s was the first number he put in there. 

Aside from academics, he had thought of taking photography seriously again. What with that asshole Ryan did to his camera – of all the souvenirs he could take from Louis –, he borrowed one from his college department. He got better. He hoped to God he got better (Before he graduated, the university had awarded him first prize many a time for his ‘brilliant’ photographs). 

He was going home now, feeling giddy that he and Frank were exchanging e-mails, giddier that he heard Pierce the Veil earlier in the dining hall (“ _Maybe we’re just having too much fun_ ,” they sang over the radio), giddiest that he purchased an old edition of John Steinbeck’s _Of Mice And Men_. The book was currently sitting on his backpack, and he planned to read it all night. There was a round of bridge earlier in the dining hall and he, being no whit wiser than someone he once knew, joined the game on impulse. He missed his one class, even two if Liam didn’t pass by and pulled him back to reality. That made him giddy, too. 

He went in that house and he noticed the quiet. A note on the table said Ashton and Calum were with 5SOS on a gig, Mikey equally the same. Pete was having an overnight somewhere for a group report. Only Liam was left then. But listening on the footsteps above, Louis was more than sure that the soon-to-be-lawyer was not alone. 

Louis decided to make himself dinner first. He was waiting for his cup noodles in the microwave when Harry Styles descended the stairs. They both regarded with each other with numb surprise. 

“I… uh…” Harry said. 

“Ummm…” Louis mumbled. 

“They…” Harry motioned above. “They couldn’t keep their hands to themselves… and I just couldn’t… you know…” 

“Oh… Niall?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So…” Louis tried to think of something, something. “You cut your hair.” 

Harry self-consciously ran a hand over his head. Before the curls reached past his shoulders, now the hair was cut straight, messy, medium length. Yet it still looked soft as always. “Yeah. I was getting a lot of trouble dressing up in the morning.” 

Louis smiled sincerely. “Looks good on you. I like it.” 

Visibly, Harry looked relieved. He smiled proudly at Louis (making him flush a bit), then started to make his way to his spot. But then, Liam and Niall were coming downstairs, and whatever it was that possessed Harry to think it was a good idea to have a one-on-one chat with Louis, disappeared. He stepped back and none were addressed to each other at the end of the night. 

5 

In the middle of October, Mikey invited them to watch the preliminary rounds of Battle of the Bands. Weird because, Mikey was in a duo and Louis has never met the new guy Mikey was playing with. Anyway, 5SOS would be playing with another batch so there was no tension (yet) between the two groups. All of them trudged on in that October night to the Memorial Hall. 

They were all separated due to the heavy crowd. Louis stood in a corner at the utmost back, in an elevated seat to get a glimpse of his housemates. No such luck. The emcee called forth the first band and, well, Louis stopped breathing. 

“My name is Ryan Ross,” he said seemingly with no interest. “And we are The Young Veins. We are calling this song… ‘Defiance’.” 

“ _There was a hold-up when we found the bridge_  
_Of a place we'd never been_  
_Defiance_

“ _And ever since I was a kid_  
_They said, "just stay away from there"_  
_Boy don't you ever live_  
_In defiance, defiance_

“ _And from the outside looking in_  
_I sure do make an easy target_  
_It's nice to think that you are always wanted_

“ _And I'm not afraid to laugh_  
_And I don't mind taking a photograph_  
_Cause you don't ask for my autograph_  
_In defiance, defiance_

“ _Yet she said it was rusted lead_  
_Their love could never live again_  
_But they found a way to make it stay_

“ _In defiance, she asked_  
_In defiance, she asked_  
_"Why can't we just be friends?"_  
_This kind of thing always happens_  
_I fell in love again_  
_With defiance, defiance_  
_Defiance_  
_With defiance, defiance_  
_Defiance.”_

The next song was called _Cape Town_. Louis was not familiar with it, was more than sure it wasn’t meant for him that time. He finished their set with a dreamy expression. When The Young Veins started climbing down the stage, he almost choked a laughter when a certain Dallon Weekes enveloped Ryan Ross in an embrace and kissed him on the top of his head (Good God, the nerve). Jon Walker and their new bandmates jeered on them and Ryan childishly poked his tongue out on them. He looked happy. Louis was happy for him. 

_What if I go up to meet him right now?_

No. He dismissed that thought. They had a bet. 

He went home and stared at all those printed photographs of the past summer. It was a bittersweet thought that they really went on separate ways and didn’t find each other. Nevertheless, he truly believed he would be okay. 

6 

On the last day of October, Louis was rushing to review all of his subjects and his thesis’ RRL (something about relating to America in a British standpoint, the thesis was). He slept in fatigue and only woke up in the early evening with Harry Styles sitting by his bedside. It was a sight to behold, and so surreal, to wake up with a beautiful creature looking over you. Again, he’s smitten. 

_I see the naked sun and the bathing angels that once roam the earth/ I see the shy moon behind the glittering stars/ I see the beauty that this world has been hiding from me all my life/ I see the most acceptable reason to be alive/ Tell me to die and I will for you, O you beautiful devil/ I see you._

Surprised, he gave him a sheepish smile. “What are you doing here?” 

But Harry looked sad and uncertain and there were tears in his eyes. 

“Harry? Are you all right?” He niggled on the way Harry stood there; shaking, anxious, must’ve come here in a whim, deathly afraid, a little spark of courageous. “Haz? Talk to me, love.” 

Harry snapped up. Suddenly his knees folded and he fell gracefully onto the bed and scooped Louis’ up and started kissing the living daylights out of him, pulling him tighter to his chest. 

“Harry?” Louis asked again when the green-eyed lad pulled back from the kiss but not from the embrace. Not that he didn’t like it (he was pleasantly surprised and he wished Harry would do it again), but Harry’s appearance was still a thing of concern. “Haz? Is everything all right?” 

“Will you ever forgive me? Will you take me back again?” 

In the dimness of his room, Harry told him of his eventful summer, also the most important summer of his life. It started out the saddest (“ _I hated you and I missed you_ ”). The engagement with Kendall was arranged from childhood. Louis was saddened that he kept it from him all this time. Harry didn’t want the marriage but he already surrendered to the idea when he saw Louis and Ryan in New York. (“ _But I saw you again in Denver and I can’t… I just can’t_ ”.) In his hapless misery, he revealed everything to his parents about his sexuality and the boy he fell in love with. It took all summer before his family accepted him wholly. He never felt so whole in his life. He had planned to find Louis immediately when the semester began, but his tail was suddenly in between his legs. He became unsure, after all the pain things he’d inflicted on him and the cruel meetings they’ve had. (“ _But now I’m… oh, Louis_ ”). 

Louis was crying with him by the end of it. He held the side of Harry’s face gently, with utmost vulnerability. “What took you so long? What changed?” 

“I got tired of waiting. I’m stupid, okay? I thought waiting would get me somewhere.” 

A smile. “We both thought the same thing.” 

“Please say that that means you still love me.” 

“Of course. I do. Always.” 

“Say it.” 

“I love you… and you. Does this mean you forgive me, too? Are you okay if I want us to start again? No more secrets, lies, pressure, insecurities? Do you love me? Will we be alright this time?” 

The answer to all was yes. 

7 

I may have lied when I said that they were engaged shortly after that summer. Not so much. That was all they were thinking about for the rest of the semester It was a still a little awkward for Harry and Louis to hold hands and be a couple, especially since almost all their friends disapprove. Pete was always glaring at Harry whenever he came into view (once he made a slicing gesture to his neck); Zayn, Nick, Taylor and Ed leave when Louis comes over. It took even longer for the boyfriends to forgive and trust each other completely. But eventually the entire cast warmed up. 

Harry only asked about Ryan once, after he gave a brief report that Kendall and him were still friends despite the engagement mishap. He noticed the mottled worry on Louis’ face when he told him that and comforted him by saying Kendall was seeing somebody else, someone in her own Uni and the fact that the girl was not crying a river and bothered to the least when he broke the news to her. “And what about you?” Harry asked. “Whatever happened to the boy you’re with in Denver?” 

Louis shifted on Harry’s chest and nosed the crook of his neck. He hummed. “He’s with someone better.” 

Harry huffed a laugh and smacked his lips to his brow. “Someone better than you? I highly doubt there is one.” 

When Christmas break came, Louis still didn’t make it to Doncaster. Harry took him to see his family in Brooklyn. Louis didn’t miss his family at all. They were there. Jay and his sisters flew to New York to also see the Styles family. Anne, Des and Jay spent most of the break discussing how ridiculous their sons behaved during their breakup. Louis and Harry told them to shut up. When they were alone, Jay asked ‘whatever happened to that Ryan? You said he’ll be with us. He looked so sweet.’ Louis didn’t remember if he’d answered that. Harry was calling his name like a symphony from the lawn and he knew he just had to be with his boy. 

Niall and Harry moved in with them on January. The apartment house was crowded but there’s no other place the tenants would rather be. They were crowded and fitted so perfectly. It was heaven to wake up with Harry each and every day. _Never again would I make him cry_ , he swore. _Never would I hurt him, part with him_. 

Louis saw Mikey and Pete marched on their graduation day. Gerard and Patrick were also there. Frank hadn’t got a chance to clear his schedule. No worries. Louis planned to visit hit him that summer. And speaking of… 

The five blokes (boys? men?) ate together in the dining hall (still open for summer classes). Louis thought of those years ago when it was just the six of them. With Frank gone, some important parts were missing but they still function as a family. Pete was still flirting with Mikey while Gerard looked on disapprovingly and Patrick was laughing the quiet laugh of his. And he, Louis, was the ‘baby’ brother of the group. They kept asking him if he would be fine now that none of them would be with him in the next semester. Louis thought of Harry, Niall, Liam, Ashton and Calum and replied, “I think so.” 

Louis turned to Pete and Mikey and asked, “Didn’t Ryan Ross also march today?” 

“Uh… no. The shithead picked up his diploma last week,” Pete said with more peeve than regret. “He was hired as a professor in Princeton. Can you believe that?” 

He didn’t remember when the last time he thought of Ryan before that night was. “So… he’s got no plans to travel across the state this summer?” 

Unsure where the conversation was headed to, the rest of the boys looked at him solemnly. 

“No,” Pete answered with a shrug. “I think he’s done with that shit now. He seemed rather contented to stick by Weekes’ side. They’re still fucking around a little. But Dallon plans to sit with him and have a proper talk, according to Gabe and Bilvy. Fucking hallelujah, if you ask me. It’s about time they go steady. I can’t stand it when Dallon’s so mopey… Holy shit. I’m Dr. Seuss!” 

“Do you miss him?” Patrick asked quietly. “Ryan, that is?” 

“A little,” Louis replied honestly. 

8 

Now, Louis is married to Harry and is, what he believes, ‘a proper adult’. They both moved to LA where three blocks down, they can visit Gerard and Patrick. Three years into their marriage, they had me by surrogate operation. 

Some nights, when my mind begins to wonder and I forget, I ask them to retell their love story. Of course they haven’t told me all the specifics about it. E.g., _we met in college, broke up, then we got together again_. I would always answer that that is true love if they still found a way back to each other. They agree wholeheartedly. My Grandma Anne often tells me how lucky they are as a whole family that Harry met Louis. Aunt Lottie and Aunt Fizzy make me swear that I ought to inherit Harry’s charms that made Louis and the rest of the Tomlinsons fall in love. Every family reunion is always merry. I am glad to be part of it. 

A storm gave a direct hit to California not so long ago. It left quite a mess. My fathers retrieved salvageable stuffs from the attic. One by one they laid them out in front of me in the den and I had the luxury to marvel upon them while they go up and down the attic. It was then that I saw the pictures. 

Fireworks. People in a diner. An RV. An altar of mementos inside a closet. A ghostly apparition seen outside a house (I got a good scare on that one). The Yellowstone National Park. Mount Rushmore. Times Square. A birthday party. A gay wedding. Countless of photographs. Except for a few photographs of Uncles Ashton and Luke, I don’t know all of those people. The recurring actors are my Dad Lou and an unknown boy. 

Aside from these photographs, I saw a battered sleeping bag, an anime-printed shirt, a birthday card. In haunches, I searched for more in the box: a train ticket to New York, a postcard, a paperback edition _Of Mice and Men_. I was confused. I was convinced that the unknown boy was his ex- boyfriend. 

I stopped my Dad when he came back down. I asked him point blank. “Dad, who is this?” 

He told me only later on, after they cleaned up. He told me and Papa. He told us the story (yet cut to non-specifics) as if he was telling the story of a dear, old friend. A legendary character, perhaps. One who he owes everything to. 

Over time, I think more and more of Ryan… and I think of that summer. I have no idea how wonderful and tragic, how short, simple and sweet the summertime my Dad had with him. I have a limited imagination. I can only wonder. I often berated Dad for not getting in touch with Ryan if the boy is that so special. He said they had a bet. And I wonder again about that. 

Other times, when I see how Papa can make Dad so giggly and red, when I see them kiss even when I’m looking, when they embrace, when they dance, when they’re all around being lovely; whenever Papa sleeps on Dad’s shoulders; whenever Papa comes home from work and greets us with kisses and hugs; whenever I see Dad’s photographs in magazines and catalogues and in exhibits in tens of museums; whenever my fathers tell me time and again how they changed for the better to be with each other, I often think that it was good this way. Ryan belongs to the past, whether or not Dad wins the bet. 

It is done now. Live by and get by. 

But I surely hope they win the bet. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea gave birth when Ryan Ross became the rumored Zayn’s replacement in One Direction. And, being familiar with Ryden and a firm believer of Larry, my mind began to wonder.  
> I have taken liberties with the locations included in the story. I haven’t been to any of the states the two main protagonists went to, so Google became my friend in creating Louis and Ryan’s factual destinations while at the same time making fictional places. I don’t know the real Louis Tomlinson, Ryan Ross, Harry Styles, and the rest of the characters, therefore I have also taken liberties in creating their personalities that would suit the story. I had qualms in putting Jay Tomlinson here (somehow the idea of putting a fic version of someone dear that left us gives me uncertainties), but if you must know, this fic already had a complete outline (albeit only in my head) and the first chapter was published last year, months and months before Jay’s death. So I had to continue.  
> In this version, I imagined Louis to be 5’4”, somewhere closer to Patrick Stump’s height to create the illusion that they are cousins and he is indeed short. I pictured Ryan to have the same height as Harry (for reasons unknown, every time I Googled Ryan’s height, I was presented with different results each time.)  
> I have no intention in making any political and racial discourse in this fic, so please kindly excuse me if you have found such statements here even the slightest. Those weren’t intentional.  
> To any one reading this, a massive thank you. I don’t know what you think of this but I hope it is all well. I hope you got something, and that something is good. Despite the few hits, I had opted to continue this to get the story out of my head before I create a new one; I believed in finishing what is started. Now, maybe I can say that I did my part and did my best. I can move on now, no more excuses.


End file.
